Harry Potter: Apprentice
by songhamdragon
Summary: Sent careening back in time, to the days following the fall of Camelot, Harry meets the founder of modern magic: Merlin. A war is brewing. Can Harry survive long enough to stop it and return home? OOTP Spoilers
1. A Brave New World

Disclaimer: For all you legalites out there, I don't own Harry Potter. Property of JK Rowling, Scholastic Books INC, etc.  
  
A/N: No flames please  
  
Chapter 1: A Brave New World  
  
From looking at Number Four Privet Drive, one would assume a normal household, with normal occupants, since this was a normal part of England. However, one abnormality stood out among the neighborhood's seemingly stale flavor, staring out into the quiet night. The deviation from the norm was known as Harry Potter. Now Harry is different from not only those in this world, but he is also set apart from those in his world. What distinguishes him from his world, the wizarding world, is the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. A scar given to him by the current dark lord, Voldemort.  
  
Voldemort. The Department of Mysteries. Sirius. That particular thought once again brought tears to Harry's eyes. At sixteen, Harry had lost all his family; his mother and father to Voldemort, when he was an infant, and his godfather to Voldemort's servant in the past few months. He could still remember seeing Sirius fall into the veil, he could remember the pain, despair, and hatred that he felt when trying to use the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix Lestrange. Since the end of the term Harry could not stop these thoughts from running in circles. When he was brought home by the Dursleys, he could not speak, he refused to eat; he just wanted to stop existing. It had been a few weeks since then, and his condition had somewhat improved.  
  
"Boy!" came his Uncle's bellow from downstairs, bringing Harry out of his thoughts. "Get that ruddy door!"  
  
Harry slowly climbed out of his bed to trek downstairs. As he was halfway down the stairs, however, the front door was blown off of its hinges. Harry was knocked down by the force of the blast. Trying to get up, he could make out six black robed figures, one of which had eyes glowing a dull red.  
  
"Uh oh" Harry thought to himself, as he dived over the banister, narrowly missing a Reductor curse. He was about to whip his wand out and begin to fire curses back, when his hand reached behind his back and met with empty air. He must have dropped his wand during the explosion. So, Harry had no choice but to turn and run for dear life. He could see jets of light flying past him, as curses were thrown at his retreating figure.  
  
"How could I be so stupid?" Harry cursed inwardly "I should have known that they would find me."  
  
He had almost reached the back door, when it came barreling towards him. He sidestepped in time to avoid being crushed. But there waiting for him, were another four Death Eaters. He was surrounded.  
  
"Well Potter, it seems that your luck has run out" hissed Voldemort, stepping in front of Harry. "You have no wand and no Dumbledore to save you this time!" Pointing his wand towards Harry, Voldemort shouted "CRUCIO!"  
  
Pain. Unimaginable pain racked through Harry's body. Every nerve was on fire, he felt sickened to the pit of his stomach, he thought he could hear bones crack, and blood vessels burst. When Voldemort finally lifted the curse, Harry was on the floor spasming.  
  
He stood there laughing, "You are weak, and you will now die for your transgressions. Avada Kedavra!"  
  
As the green light shot towards Harry, he could only think of how he had failed everyone, how his time was finally over, and how much he needed to escape to fight another day. These thoughts ran through his mind in that split second between life and death. When the spell finally hit, Harry could feel the magical energy ripping through his body like wildfire. He was filled to the brim with it, his entire being cried out for release. Then, everything went black.  
  
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Meanwhile, in the forests of England, some millennia before, a middle- aged man staff was journeying north. Standing at about five foot seven, wearing a non-descript brown tunic, and armed with only a wooden walking staff, one would not normally think to leave this man untroubled. However, looking into his deep blue eyes, one could almost see the power that was at his command.  
  
And today was especially the wrong day to get on his bad side. He had just lost a man who not only was his "student", but also one whom he had once considered a close friend. Only hours after his friend's death, the entire kingdom was fragmented. So called, lords and self proclaimed kings once again claimed rights to their "territories", and began massing armies to shatter the peace that had covered the land for more than twenty years.  
  
All members of the old regime were now targets of these sovereign "rulers". None more so than this man, who was a close advisor to his friend, the King.  
  
As he was lost in his thoughts, two men armed with swords burst out of the surrounding foliage to attack him. When the first one was close enough, the man ducked, and stepped to the side, while letting his staff impact with the other's chest; he then brought up his staff again, landing a blow to the temple, rendering one attacker unconscious. The other armed man, thinking that he saw an opening, ran in and tried to lunge for the middle aged man's chest. The attack would have succeeded, if the attacker had been able to move.  
  
The man just looked at his immobile attacker and said "Never think a man is weak, he may have talents that you are not aware of." Lifting one hand, and gesturing, the attacker was thrown into a nearby tree with a resounding "CRACK".  
  
Before he was able to investigate whether this attack was just happenstance, or part of a larger plot to capture him, he felt a tremendous swirl of magical energy burst out of nothingness nearby. He sighed to himself before making sure his staff was still serviceable, and headed out to find the source of the magical disturbance. This would not be an easy day at all.  
  
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Harry slowly trudged back into the realm of the consciousness. As he awoke, he thought to himself: I'm alive?  
  
He slowly opened his eyes, fully expecting to see Voldemort standing above him. Instead, he saw countless leaves and branches spread out above him, and an expanse of cloudless blue sky, in the gaps between the foliage. When he tried to raise his head to see more of the beauty surrounding him, he found himself staring up the end of a long wooden staff, to a stern, and not altogether friendly, face.  
  
The man spoke a strange tongue that Harry could not understand, and upon seeing that he was not answering made a threatening motion with the staff. Harry quickly tried to raise his hands in a non threatening gesture and replied "I don't understand what you're saying!"  
  
Cocking his head to one side, the man then made a few motions with his hand, and Harry felt a tingling sensation pass through him.  
  
"As I said before, who are you, and why are you here?" asked the man.  
  
"My name is Harry Potter" he replied "And as for why I'm here. I don't know. I was someplace before, and now I'm here. I don't understand what's going on."  
  
Thinking that there seemed to be some truth to what the boy said, the man then asked, "That magical disturbance, do you know what happened there?"  
  
"I don't know. it may have been me. I was hit by a curse, and felt like I was about to explode. Then everything went black" Harry replied, while thinking ". a curse that should have killed me, instead of bringing me to Merlin knows where"  
  
The man was surprised and decided to let him up. While helping Harry to his feet, the man was able to recognize the power that the boy had, a power which was mirrored in his own eyes. "You are of magic then" the man asked, "A wizard?"  
  
"Yes, I can do magic if that's what you mean by 'of magic'. And I am a wizard." answered Harry, while brushing dirt off of his clothes.  
  
"Well lad, I don't know as if I trust you yet, but we best not tarry here for too long. Non-magic folk have no liking for us." The man said, already starting to walk northwards.  
  
"Hey! Wait up." cried Harry, as he struggled to catch up. "What's your name anyways?"  
  
"Merlin", the man replied, before increasing his speed. 


	2. The Journey North

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling, Scholastic Books, Etc. Other ideas are taken from the NBC's Merlin Mini-Series, as well as from sources of Arthurian Legend.  
  
A/N: Thanks for the reviews =)  
  
Chapter Two: The Journey North  
  
"Wait. did you say Merlin?" Harry sputtered, once again jogging to catch up with the other wizard.  
  
"Yes. Merlin. Do you have a problem with my name lad?"  
  
"N- No" Harry managed to get out, finally finding a steady pace that he was comfortable with.  
  
Harry thought to himself, "Merlin, the Prince of Enchanters, the wizard responsible for Modern Magic. that same Merlin is walking right next to me."  
  
He had survived insurmountable odds, and escaped relatively unscathed from the Killing Curse once again. As far as he could tell, the magic from the Voldemort's curse, somehow catapulted Harry back through time.  
  
Continuing to ponder his present situation, Harry had not realized that Merlin had stopped walking, and ended up crashing into him, causing both wizards to topple to the ground.  
  
Grumbling to himself, Merlin pulled himself up. "We are far enough from trouble, for now. So, since we are out of danger, tell me where you come from? Why someone was trying to curse you? And why people of your homeland wear such ridiculous clothing."  
  
At this last comment, Harry looked down at himself and realized that Merlin was talking about Dudley's hand-me-downs. He was wearing an oversized grey t-shirt, whose sleeves came down to his wrists. In addition, he was wearing jeans, five sizes too large, which had multiple holes in them, and shoes which looked more fitting for a clown than for a sixteen year old boy. The combination of his apparel caused Harry's appearance to be quite amusing indeed.  
  
"The clothes are hand-me-downs from my cousin", replied Harry, embarrassed to be standing in front of the most famous wizard in history, dressed so shabbily.  
  
"Oh..", said Merlin, softening, upon hearing the boy's circumstance.  
  
"Anyways," Harry continued. "I come from England, but as far as I can tell, an England of the far future. As for why someone was trying to curse me." He then proceeded to explain his parents' deaths, the events following the Triwizard Tournament, the battle in the Department of Mysteries, and the damned prophecy.  
  
When the boy was finished, Merlin just looked at him astonished. "This boy really has led a hard life", the older wizard thought to himself. "He can't be more than sixteen years of age, and yet when I look into his eyes, it seems as if he is much, much older." At that point, Merlin resolved to let no harm to come to the boy, for as long as he was with him.  
  
"Well lad", Merlin said, smiling. "We're almost at the crossroads, and from there it's only another month's journey to Norhaven. If you want, you are welcome to join me on the journey there. If you do not already know, Norhaven is a large wizarding kingdom. Also, it has a large library of texts, which we may be able to use, and find a way to send you home."  
  
"R-Really?" Harry exclaimed, quite happy with the thought of traveling with the esteemed wizard. "You would really let me come with you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I'd be honored, sir", said Harry, managing an awkward bow.  
  
"Now, no need for formalities lad. We will see how you fare with my company in a few weeks." Merlin said with a twinkle in his eyes.  
  
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Harry didn't consider himself out of shape. But after only a day of hiking, he discovered that he was quite mistaken. They had just stopped and set up camp for the night. Amazingly, the forest was nothing like what he was used to. It was quiet and peaceful; there was rarely a sign of human life among the trails that the pair took. Of course, at the moment, Harry was too preoccupied with letting his feet rest in front of the crackling fire, to take note of anything else.  
  
"Well lad, I take it you wizards of the future do not travel much by foot anymore", chuckled Merlin, while lighting his pipe.  
  
"Not long distances, no", Harry replied. "We still walk short distances of course, but there are many other ways to get from place to place. Wizards mainly travel by apparition, portkey, and broomsticks not to mention enchanted Muggle modes of transportation."  
  
"Hmm." Merlin grunted, as he thought of the intricacies of having to cast one's body from one place to another. "These skills could be of great use, could you show me how to do it?"  
"Um - I didn't get a chance to learn it before I was sent here. You see." Harry didn't get a chance to finish, because at that moment, horses could be heard coming towards them.  
  
"Quickly now!", Merlin shouted, grabbing his staff and pulling Harry up.  
  
But it was too late; the horses had already caught up with and surrounded them. Twenty armored men and mounts were formed in a tight circle surrounding the pair. Long, poison tipped lances were drawn and pointed at Harry and Merlin.  
  
Then crackling laughter could be heard from the back of the formation. "Ahh. how the mighty have fallen. The great Merlin, magician extraordinaire, feared by the little lordlings under Arthur, here in my grasp"  
  
"Show yourself!" commanded Merlin, who was standing with calm indifference against the deadly weapons poised to strike. "Unless you are too much of a coward."  
  
"NOBODY CALLS ME A COWARD", yelled the voice, as two of the mounts facing the pair stepped aside to reveal a white horse which looked like it was carrying a beach ball on its back. The ball turned out to be a man, who was dressed in gaudy, jewel encrusted armor, which did nothing to hide his enormous bulk. He had beady black eyes, and looked to have an eternal sneer painted on his face.  
  
"I am King Luc de Farnam the Third," bragged the small man, puffing his chest out trying to make himself more imposing of a figure. "You, Merlin, are trespassing upon my sovereign lands. My men have orders to run you through, if you even twitch."  
  
"Oh, then I won't move a muscle", drawled Merlin in a Malfoy-ish tone.  
  
Without warning, all the mounts were transfigured into doormice, sending the once mounted men crashing heavily to the ground. Next their armor became potato sacks with holes for the head and arms. And before Harry could blink, the armed men held the tail end of fishes in the place of lances. More than half the soldiers could no longer take the madness. So they turned tail and ran.  
  
Harry saw several bolts of red flash through the air, taking three men immediately out of commission. Meanwhile, he could hear the whistling of Merlin's staff spinning through the air, and the resounding crunches and thuds left in its wake. Merlin, making short work of the remaining two soldiers, was too preoccupied to notice the "King" sneaking up behind him. Seeing a glint of silver poised behind Merlin, Harry knew that he would not be able to yell out a warning before that pudgy hand plunged a dagger into his companion's exposed back.  
  
"Expelliarmus", Harry yelled without thinking. He reacted, instinctively, with his wand hand outstretched, pointing towards de Farnam, quickly gathering magical energy to pour into his phoenix wand core, before realizing that he no longer had his wand. However, what happened next was completely unexpected.  
  
A silver beam burst forth from Harry's hand, impacting de Farnam, sending him and his dagger flying in opposite directions.  
  
Merlin had just finished off the last soldier when he heard a whoosh behind him. He turned to see the self crowned king flying into the side of a large oak, with Harry standing twenty feet behind him with a bewildered look on his face.  
  
Before Harry could ask what just happened, Merlin quickly said "Later." And had both of them running towards the north once again. 


	3. Apprentice

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling, Scholastic Books, Etc. Other ideas are taken from the NBC's Merlin Mini-Series, as well as from sources of Arthurian Legend. Ideas of magical theory are partially from Eddings, partially derived from modern physics, and part from my own imagination.  
  
A/N: The more reviews I get tend to make me write that much faster! Sorry, not much action in this one, more explanation behind the theory.  
  
Chapter 3: Apprentice  
  
After their narrow escape, Harry and Merlin continued to run north for a week straight. They rested when their bodies were about to pass out from exhaustion, only to wake up a few hours later to begin the torturous run anew. They did not have time to discuss any of the events that transpired the night of the attack. In fact, due to a perpetual lack of breath, neither wizard was able to form a coherent sentence. Of course, not being able to talk did not preclude Harry from thinking about what happened.  
  
"I lost my wand back in the 21st century", he thought to himself, while running to keep up with the ever fast-paced Merlin. "How did I manage to cast that disarming spell? It didn't feel any different from when I normally use my wand. It felt the same, yet different. I must have cast that spell numerous times with my wand, but I've never been able to do anything remotely like this."  
  
The pair kept running for another week, and Harry continued to ponder the events that led up to the unusual manifestation of his power. Once they reached the hill region, Merlin began to gradually slow their pace. Harry was resting near the fire, lying on the soft grass, looking up at the stars, when Merlin finally spoke.  
  
"Well, we have some good news and some bad news. The good news is that because of our running, we're about two days away from Norhaven. The bad news is that Norhaven requires that you either have a trade or family residing within its borders; otherwise you cannot enter the city. They do not want beggars or troublemakers to disrupt the peace. Have you a trade?"  
  
"Um - no. I don't think so", said Harry. He was good at Quidditch, but he doubted the inhabitants of a medieval wizarding community had any use for a player of a game that had not yet been invented.  
  
"Hrm.. the way I see it we have two options. We could try to sneak you in, and hope that they do not notice your lack of a profession. Or you could become my apprentice." Without realizing that the kid was growing on him, Merlin continued to ramble "I mean I have never had an apprentice, but one has to start somewhere and .."  
  
"I'd be honored to be your apprentice," said Harry quickly, cutting Merlin off.  
  
".. and I am not the most patient of teachers, and.. wha?" Merlin asked, amazed. "You would actually want to learn from me? I mean apprenticeship is not all fun and festive, there are bonds, commitments, and regulations that must be adhered to."  
  
"Yes", replied Harry more forcefully. To him the decision was easy. Studying under one of the most powerful wizards of all time was a once in a lifetime opportunity.  
  
"Hermione would be so jealous," Harry thought to himself, before realizing that he had forgotten that his friends were not with him. He wondered if he would ever see them again, if he would be an old man by the time he got back to his own time. What if he couldn't get back, what if he ended up spending his entire life here? Harry was beginning to sink into despair once again until Merlin saw what was happening, and tried to pull him out.  
  
"So, are there any pressing questions or concerns that you have for me?" asked Merlin, in a forced cheery tone. "I am sure you want to know how you performed that feat of magic without the use of a wand. From what you have told me, I gather that magic folk have become lax in their ways as time passed."  
  
"You mean to tell me what I did was normal?" Harry asked, as curiosity got the better of him.  
  
"Well. normal is not the word I would use for any magical feat," Merlin answered, getting into the subject. Magical theory was always one of his favorite areas of discussion. "Let me start with the basics. You see, the success of magic is based solely on one's belief. It is belief that allows you to gather and channel your magical energy into something that has form. You have probably seen this with spells that you have already learned. By having it taught to you, on a subconscious level, you believe that the spell must be possible. If you keep telling yourself that you cannot perform, then it ends up becoming a self fulfilling prophecy, and you will end up failing. That is why you were able to cast a disarming spell on that self crowned 'King'. You had cast the spell before, and 'knew' that you could cast it once again. You did this before you realized that you were without a wand. If you had realized it, you would not have believed, the spell would have failed, and I would be a corpse. Thus, the key to unlocking our power is belief; we must allow our minds to free themselves from the prison that they have built up around them."  
  
After a minute of contemplation, Harry asked "So, belief is the reason I was able to cast a Patronus Charm in my third year. Since I knew I had done it before, then I was able to have faith in my abilities to do it again. I think I understand this, but I thought wandless magic could only be accomplished by powerful wizards."  
  
"First, 'wandless' magic as you call it, can be accomplished by most, if not all wizards if enough concentration is given. Second." said Merlin, looking straight at Harry, ". you are more powerful than you give yourself credit for."  
  
He continued on, "The way I was taught, there were three schools of magic utilization, all of which led to enabling the caster to fix the spell outcome in their mind's eye. The first 'school' primarily relies on an external focus for casting. Wands are prime examples of external foci. Others, like books or staffs are also sometimes common. Spell casting in this way is the simplest, but also the least effective. It requires little concentration, since the wand movements and incantations act as cues for your subconscious, and the wand cores perform as energy reservoirs. The spells become rote. However, since they are rote, the outcomes are consistent and very reliable. On the other hand, the second school does not require an external focus. It requires more concentration and a stronger belief, but is usually accompanied by either an incantation or some gesture to help shape the outcome. The second school is usually more powerful than the previous because it begins to move away from a fixed outcome to an outcome that varies depending on the caster's concentration."  
  
"The third school", lectured Merlin, already acting like Harry's teacher even though a bond had not been formed yet. ". is purely mental based. It is probably the hardest to learn. In addition, it requires both intense concentration, without any external aid, and more power than the average magic user possesses. The spell outcome depends heavily on the power of will possessed by the caster. To this day, I still cannot use it with certainty."  
  
Suddenly, he heard a noise. Merlin jumped up, staff at the ready, only to realize that the sound was caused by his apprentice falling asleep. He put the staff away, and conjured a blanket to put over his young charge.  
  
"I surmise that I will not have a problem putting you to sleep if you are ever restless." Merlin quietly laughed to himself, while looking at the sleeping form of Harry. "Rest well lad, you are going to need it." 


	4. Bonding

Disclaimer: most of this stuff isn't owned by me, but by JK Rowling, etc. 

A/N: Unfortunately my last few chapters have been quite short. This will continue for a bit longer. I am currently in the midst of finals, and it's a challenge to find time to write these chapters. However, I did not want to leave people wondering where I've gone to, so I try to release anything I can finish. Thanks for the reviews! 

Chapter Four: Bonding

            Harry awoke to the sounds of birds singing above him. He slowly opened his eyes, wanting to enjoy being in the realm of sleep for a bit longer. His body, on the other hand, had had enough rest, and craved some sort of movement. He bit down a groan, as he got up from the soft grass covered ground. Looking around he guessed that it was about late spring or early summer now. 

            "I guess I never thought about time travel putting someone in a different season", Harry said to himself. "I must have fallen asleep on Merlin while he was lecturing, but I do remember that last bit about mental based magic. It could come in handy if I ever get back home." 

            He was brought out of his thoughts by a returning Merlin. "Ah, I see that Sleeping Beauty has finally woken up! Are you ready for the bonding ceremony young Master Potter?" 

            "Bond?" asked Harry bewildered. He had never heard of an actual bonding between master and apprentice. Of course, no one in the wizarding world had such a relationship in his time. 

            "Yes, an apprenticeship bond", said Merlin, patiently. "The bond is used to facilitate learning, and so that you can not only see, but actually 'feel' how the spell is done. It will make it easier for you to learn non-focus based magic. Furthermore, the bond is essential for you to learn purely mental based magic, since the entire spell is cast from your will. Anything you learn from me will be stored in your mind at a more accelerated rate, relative to learning speed without a bond. So are you ready?" 

            "I believe so." Harry nervously replied.  

            Raising his right hand out above the earth, Merlin said, "Put your hand out, palm up, and repeat after me: I, Harry Potter, will learn…" 

             "I, Harry Potter, will learn, to the best of my abilities, the skills taught to me. I will use these skills only for the side of the light. Let this bond stand until completion." intoned Harry. When he finished, his hand began glowing a dull green color. 

            Merlin saw this, and began, "I, Merlin, will teach, with all the knowledge I have at my disposal, the skills my apprentice will need. Let these teachings guide my charge to become a warrior of the light. On my word, the bond shall stand until the training is complete." 

            After he finished the ritual agreement, Merlin placed his now glowing hand, palm down, above Harry's. At first only a small spark of light could be seen. Quickly, it began to glow between the two hands. The light encircled the pair, making both of them shine with iridescence. Then, the glow left as quickly as it had come. 

            "So, my young apprentice, how do you feel?" asked Merlin. 

            "Strange, it feels like I'm alone in my mind, but at the same time I'm not." answered Harry. Looking at his magic, he could feel another presence with him. Harry realized that he could see Merlin's great expanse of power. It was separate, yet distant. For the first time since he met the older wizard, Harry realized how powerful Merlin really was. 

            "Since we are ahead of schedule, due to our little run in with de Farnum, I believe that we can slow the pace a bit more. So, let us begin our first lesson shall we," announced Merlin, gleefully. 

            "What's the first lesson", asked Harry, now visibly worried after seeing Merlin's wolfish expression. 

            "The most basic skill needed in order to do magic. Clearing your mind… clearing your mind." 

            "How hard could it be?" asked Harry silently. 

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            Three hours later, Harry had the answer to his unspoken question. His head, along with the rest of his body ached. One would think that blanking the mind should be accomplished relatively easily. However, thoughts kept popping into his head. From important questions like how he was going to get back home, to relatively insignificant thoughts like if they had French Toast in this time. Of course there were also some disturbing thoughts, like how he noticed how Ginny was quite pretty last year. These latter thoughts, he made sure to stay away from. 

            After the first hour, he still had not been able to clear his mind. Merlin laughed and told him that the first hour was a demonstration that the mind could not be cleared by conventional means. Next, Harry was instructed to feed all his emotions, thoughts, and worries into a fire. Everything went into the fire, the fire consumed all. Surrounding the fire was nothingness, a black space completely empty. It was in this empty void, that Harry had to float. He had to ignore the fire, and concentrate on maintaining his place in the void. In the near future, it would be in this void that Harry would have to gather his power and shape his spells. 

            Harry was already a quick study at practical magic, and with the help of the bond, he was able to steadily float in the void after about thirty minutes. Well, that is until Merlin started his assault. 

            "I still don't understand why you had to throw rocks at me," complained an aching Harry. "I could have stayed in the void indefinitely if you just left me alone"

            "Ah, but will any opponent you face allow you to stay in the void and cast?" countered Merlin. "You must learn to stay in the void even with distractions from the outside world." 

             "Why is clearing your mind so important anyways," whined Harry. "I could cast spells just fine before without having to go into the void. In fact, I've never even heard of either clearing the mind, or the flame and void." 

            "Enough," snapped Merlin, rising to his full height, aggravation clearly written on his face. "Did you not swear a few hours ago to learn from me? Did you not make a pact to be my apprentice? Are you arrogant enough to think that YOU know everything about magic?" 

            Merlin grabbed his staff and started walking away in a huff. "There are a still a few good hours of light left, we will travel further. Attempt to clear your mind using any other method except for the flame and void, see if you are capable! I suggest you keep up." 

            Harry was dumbfounded. He was tired; he didn't mean to upset the venerable wizard. As he was trying to catch up to his master, he began to try to clear his mind. His thoughts, however, had a different plan. He kept thinking about why he complained in the first place. He was angry at Merlin for sending those stones his way. He didn't understand why he was forced to clear his mind, when he was used to do things a different way. He was upset at Merlin ordering him around. 

            "I mean what in Merlin's name gives him the right to tear down everything I know?" thought Harry, angrily, to himself. "Oh… right… Merlin gives himself the right to tell me what to do. Bollocks, he was wrong. I'll have to apologize to Merlin later. Time to start practicing the flame and void, it really is the only way that works." 

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            About an hour after nightfall, Merlin had them stop and make camp. There were no clouds in the sky, and once again the stars shone brightly in the sky. One look at Merlin's face, however, eclipsed any hope Harry had about this being an easy apology. 

            Harry approached his teacher, lowered himself to one knee, and bowed his head, as he had seen knights do on the telly. "Master Merlin, I am truly sorry. I did not think enough and find the reasons why I was being taught the subject."

            At this, Merlin only hrummphed. Harry continued in a repentant tone, "I have not been a good student, and I do not deserve a master such as you. I understand if you would want to disregard me as your student, but I hope that you will find it in your heart and forgive me. I would like a second chance to be a better student." 

            He bit down a silent sigh of relief when he saw Merlin's countenance softening. 

            "Boy", Merlin sighed. "I am not a good teacher either, but maybe we can work out an arrangement that is agreeable to both of us. Now get up, before you start thinking like one of those no brained knights." 

            Harry got up and took a seat next to Merlin. "I tried to clear my mind with other methods, like you said. But none of them worked like the flame and void, why is that?" 

            "To tell you the truth," replied Merlin while lighting his pipe. "I am still not sure why it works so well. It is not an effective, but not widely known method; I would try to keep that to myself if I were you."

"Which reminds me", added Merlin, looking much older all of a sudden. "When we get to the city tomorrow, there are a few things you should know. You are an apprentice to me, but you are an apprentice to a scribe. Do not mention Arthur's court, the different schools of magic, the flame and void, or where you are from to anyone. Since you are still under the age of majority, you will have to spend part of your time enrolled in the Academy of Magic, along with some type of physical training. As you progress with your training, be wary of others knowing your true potential. There are many powerful mages there who would try to remove you, if given even the slightest inkling that you possess more power than they." 

            To say Harry was shocked was an understatement. The greatest of wizards, scared? Could these other mages, as Merlin called them, really be more powerful? This thought caused him to become more than a little concerned. 

            "Why are you pretending to be a scribe?" asked Harry, still confused. "Who are these mages, and why are you scared of them?" 

            "First off", replied Merlin. "I **am** a scribe and a chronicler, which is why I could travel around outside of Norhaven and advise Arthur. I could be absent from the city for a long time and retain property with the excuse that I was off exploring some unknown land. I do often write about my journeys, but edit some of the events and characters involved." 

            "The mages…" at the name, Merlin spat, "are the 'ruling' council of Norhaven. The title of Mage is conferred upon wizards who are supposedly above the rest, in power leadership, and moral excellence. Bah! The so called ruling class is a bunch of power hungry wizards who will stop at nothing to keep their power. Some, calling themselves Purists, believe in the extermination of all humans who are not of magic. They believe in the superiority of wizarding kind. The purist mages will not hesitate to kill a muggle, as you call them, if they dare to 'dirty' the mage by existing within the mage's viewing range. Previously, the majority of the council agreed with my arguments that muggles were not harming us in any way, and barred the Purists from what would have amounted to genocide. With the fall of Arthur, however, many muggles are beginning to systematically exterminate anyone who exhibits signs of magic. Oftentimes, the muggles end up killing their own, rather than wizards. But, the council has gotten word of the reasoning behind the murders, and I fear that the actions of these muggles may drive the council to retaliation." 

            At this point, Merlin looked straight at Harry, "From what I gather, you value bravery and justice above all. You are probably wondering why I have not taken any action. I could stop some of the mages, but I am not powerful enough to bring down what amounts to an entire wizarding nation. I must pick and choose my battles carefully. Remember also not to talk of such things within the city, unless in the secure room in my house." 

"Anyways", continued Merlin, conjuring some blankets and pillows for both of them. "If we leave at dawn, we should reach Norhaven by midday. So get some sleep lad." 

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Thanks to all my reviewers! 

A/N: A few things: the schools of magic aren't really schools. They're like schools of thought in philosophy; it just means that there are different ways of thinking, or in this case, performing magic. The difference between a wand and a staff is that the staff can hold more magical energy, since it is both longer and thicker (2*pi*r*l). Before anyone asks, Harry will not learn how to fight with a staff; I have some other things in mind. *grins evilly* of course that means that you will have to tune in to the next chapter. 


	5. Norhaven

A/N: Glad for all the reviews. Oh, and yes, I did use some of Jordan's stuff. I started reading and writing fan-fiction because I had already read a good deal of the fantasy books out there. So, this story may be influenced by authors that I have read. I own nothing but those things that I create. Copyrights belong to JK Rowling, Robert Jordan, Scholastic Books, etc. 

Chapter 5: Norhaven

          The pair had been traveling for about three hours when they reached the top of a hill. Looking down to the wide stone paved road below, Harry could see men, women, and children lined up for miles. It was the first time Harry had seen such a large gathering of people since leaving his own time. He saw some riding horses, in carriages or wagons, and others were just walking. Originally, he thought this was what muggles referred to as a "caravan". Well, until he saw a man pull out a wand and repair a jug of water that had dropped. His jaw dropped; there must have been thousands of witches and wizards standing just below them. Even Diagon Alley right before term started didn't have this many people. The question was: why were there so many magical folk gathered in one area? 

          "They are trying to enter the city," said Merlin, answering Harry's unspoken question. "Every day, deliveries are made from the outlying villages. Also, many of these witches and wizards try to gain citizenship to Norhaven. Most do not make it." 

          "Why not?", Harry asked, while walking down to the road. 

          "Many are not considered **good enough", said Merlin angrily. "They are considered to be of more use away from the city. Most of the ones who get turned away are wizards who need foci to cast. They are thought of as inferior by many mages, 'not fitting' to be part of such a powerful society. Some mages even believe that these wizards should be exterminated along with the muggles." **

          "Wait, that doesn't make sense." said Harry. "They feel threatened by wizards who are more powerful, but at the same time they want only powerful wizards in their city?" 

          "Such discrimination is never logical." responded Merlin. "But we had best stop speaking of this subject for the time being. We do not want to be overheard." 

          Merlin led the two of them down onto the road. As Harry got closer, he could see that none of the magical folk here dressed in anything as flamboyant as the wizards from his time. Most were attired like Merlin, in basic brown tunics and leggings, or for many of the women, brown dresses with some simple embroidery. Of course, Harry felt extremely self-conscious when he realized that he was still dressed in Dudley's hand-me-downs. His strange appearance caused him to be on the receiving end of several stares from the assembled populace, ranging from curious to openly hostile. 

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          As they approached the point where road met valley, Harry could see the entrance to Norhaven. Nestled inside the valley was a giant archway, which looked to be composed of shimmering crystal. On either side of the entrance stood a wizard chiseled from obsidian, guarding the city from invaders. Carvings of what appeared to be great battles adorned the surface of the archway. When the two wizards entered the archway, they headed for one of six smaller, but still impressive, ivory gates. There, stood two heavily armored wizards, each holding a rune engraved broadsword in front of them. 

          "Stop" One of them commanded, holding his arm out palm first. "This gate is for citizens only, not for rabble like you." 

          Without warning, an object careened with the back of the guard's head. The object in question turned out to be the end of a walking stick, wielded by a small, hunched over, old man. 

          "Do not be so quick to judge Grayson." berated the elder. Turning to Merlin, he said, "My apologies Master Scribe, we had no idea that you would be returning so soon. You shall be let through immediately. Oh, and welcome home!" 

          "My thanks Sir Garron," Merlin said, and bowed to the older man. "May peace favor your gates." 

          With that Harry and Merlin stepped out onto the other side of the gate. The view was beyond description. The city rested on what could be described as a massive island, surrounded by a chasm that was around four to five miles deep. The area beneath and around the city was filled by crystal clear water, which ran off the sides of the chasm, creating majestic looking waterfalls. Rainbows could be seen every which way. Between the entrance gates and the city proper stood an enormous crystal bridge, which made a crossing of the chasm possible. The bridge stood atop pillars of marble, and had railings made of ivory. A fine spray of mist cooled the weary travelers as they crossed. 

          While walking towards the opposite side of the bridge, Harry began to notice a great crystal and marble spire rising up from the center of the city. It had to be at least sixty stories high, an odd sight even among the skyscrapers in muggle London. In this time period, however, it was even more amazing to see any building so grand. Harry supposed that the great tower was where the ruling council of magi must sit. 

          The rest of the city was just as beautiful. It seemed as if Norhaven had a designer, who refused to have any darkness graze a single part of the city. Taller, what Harry guessed to be office buildings, surrounded the main square. As one moved outwards in a circle, the buildings became shorter, but more elongated. The city seemed to hold more than should have been possible. 

"But then again", Harry thought to himself. "Magic makes anything possible." 

Four streets before they reached the spire, Merlin made a turn off of the main street. The houses here were smaller, but not by much. They were roughly four stories high, and a little more than two times wider than Number Four Privet Drive. Most were made of white marble, and had roofs of red tile. Harry could see people on their balconies lounging around in the mid-afternoon sun.  The roads leading to their destination were paved with varying white and cream-colored cobblestones. Trees and flowers of varying shapes and sizes adorned the side of the road, giving the city a natural feel. 

          When they arrived at the front of Merlin's house, Harry was shocked, to say the least. The house was nothing at all like what he pictured. In his mind's eye, he imagined that a scribe's house would be small, dimly lit, and musty. Instead, the house was made of the same kind of marble and crystal as its neighbors, it was about three stories high, and looked to be three times the width of the houses on either side. Roman style pillars were spread out evenly across the front of the house. 

          The interior was also different than he anticipated. The main entranceway was brightly lit by sunlight streaming in from the skylights above. Covering the walls were grand tapestries depicting all different sorts of magical creatures and landscapes. It was surprising, however, to find that the floor was made of _black_ marble, inlaid with patterns of silver and gold. 

          Harry followed Merlin into a spacious dining area, with what looked like seats for fifty or more. He took a seat in front of the carved oaken table. He could make out house-elves popping in and out, carrying trays of food to the table. 

When the table was finally loaded a distinguished looking elf popped in and said, "Welcome back Master Merlin, will you be requiring anything else?" 

Merlin shook his head, replying "That will be all. Thank you Krayfar." And the little house elf disappeared. 

Merlin picked a roasted boar's leg, looked at Harry and said, "We will discuss my expectations, and your training schedule. After lunch of course." 

With that, Harry began to devour an excellent piece of sweetmeat pie. 

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Thanks again to everyone for reviewing! 


	6. It Begins

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling. I make no claim to her estate, or profit from these stories in any way. Down lawyers, down! 

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, makes me quite happy! 

Chapter 6: It begins

            After devouring what Harry guessed to be only half the contents on the massive oak table, the master and apprentice were sitting opposite one another in large, overstuffed, leather chairs. 

            "Ugh, I don't think I've ever been that hungry, or this full in my life!", complained Harry, who was sprawled out over his chair. 

            "Ha! When I was a lad, I could eat **twice** as much as I do now, and I still ate more than you did." 

            At this Harry just groaned, before Merlin continued, "Now, my young apprentice, it is time to further discuss the terms of your apprenticeship. First off, I believe that you should try to learn the language here, since there are parts of the city that prohibit any spell use, including parts of the Academy. Also, you should begin training at the Academy. I can teach you about certain aspects of magic, but I am not a war mage, nor a healer by any means. As an apprentice, you are to learn the basics of magic from me, so the academy only teaches specified magics. You will have to choose Battle Magic, Healing Magic or Developmental Magic. From what I have heard of what you face upon your return, I would recommend Battle Magic, but it is your choice. In addition, you will have to take lessons in some type of physical combat. Any questions?" 

            "What's developmental magic, and why do I have to learn how to fight? Usually wizard duels are fought at a distance. The only physical activity is running and ducking, which I guess could be considered combat?" Harry replied. He couldn't remember ever participating in physical fighting, except for trying to use Gryffindor's sword against the basilisk. Even then, he had no idea what he was doing and would have preferred to use his wand. 

            "For all the combat that you have been in, you really have not fought at all." Merlin said, shaking his head, "Let me tell you one thing lad, there is no fairness in battle. You fight because you have to; that means using _all_ of your abilities to win. Wizard-kind oftentimes forget that cold steel can kill just as effectively as a flashy fire spell." 

            "Developmental Magic," Merlin went on, after taking a sip from what looked to be a goblet of red wine. "is what we use to maintain the city. The wizards who study and practice this style of magic are the ones who find new uses for the overflow from Norhaven's heartstone. Everything from our hot water baths to the protective shield over our heads was engineered by this branch. Before you ask, the heartstone is a giant pool of bound magic that is used to power greater spells. Currents of magical energy continuously feed it. However, random spikes in the eddy of magic are quite prevalent. The crystal that the magic is bound in can only absorb magical energy at a certain rate; if this rate is exceeded, the crystal will shatter and the held magical energies would destroy the city. So, in order to make the magical flux equal, the excess energy has to be diverted for other 'immediate' purposes."

            "Wow", was all Harry could say. He was astonished. He never knew that these types of magic were possible. The knowledge must have been lost over time. 

            "How long has the city been around for?" 

            "As far as I can tell from the records, nigh on a millennium", answered Merlin. "Then again, I was not born here. So, I was not raised with the cultural knowledge that the native denizens have." 

            If Norhaven was established so long ago, why wasn't it still around, Harry wondered. Professor Binns had in no way mentioned the existence of such an advanced wizarding city. He doubted that even the wizarding world in his time was half as advanced magically. To Harry, much of history seemed to be missing. Even information regarding Merlin had been lost and possibly diluted. For example, they never mentioned his residence in Norhaven or his status not as an enchanter, but as a master scribe. What did happen? 

            "Would you like a tour?" Merlin asked, pulling Harry out of his thoughts. "Since you will be living here until we can get you home, I thought you would like to know your way around." 

            "Yeah, a tour would be helpful." 

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            Harry's first impression of the house was that it was big, but not 'that' big. The first stop on the tour was the living quarters. Harry was given his room, but it was not the room he would have expected to receive given the title of "apprentice". Upon entering, Harry immediately noticed the high vaulted ceiling which was charmed to take on the appearance of the weather outside, much like the ceiling in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. There were large open bay windows on one side of the room, letting in a cool breeze. The other side was occupied by an oversized canopied bed, which looked to be stuffed with down feathers, just looking at it made Harry want to go to sleep. Pushed against another wall was a large oak and mahogany desk, with stacks of parchment on one side, and quills and ink on the other. The floor was entirely covered by soft burgundy and gold carpeting. 

On the right side of the room was a door which connected the bedroom to the bathroom. The bathroom was even more opulent than the prefect's bathroom he visited in his fourth year. The majority of the room seemed to be carved out of white marble. There were fountains everywhere, and Harry swore that he could hear a faint melody playing from unseen instruments. 

Next he took Harry to the armory, the kitchens, the library, and the formal workroom. The formal workroom more closely resembled what Harry imagined working conditions for a scribe were. The room was small and dim, the few light sources coming from one window and a small number of well placed candles. Multiple copies of books filled the shelves surrounding the room. In the middle of the room sat two wooden drafting tables, each with its own high stool. Stacks of parchment were neatly placed beside the tables. 

"Do not let yourself be fooled by outward appearances," said Merlin, all-knowingly. "To have the reputation as a 'good' scribe, I must sometimes pretend to work in the conditions that others imagine I should work in. People are, more often than not, blinded by their pre-conceived notions and fooled by their misconceived perception of the world. Anyways, this tour has made me hungry, let us go and visit _my_ favorite room: the dining room. After, I will show you where you will learn magic." 

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            After dinner, Merlin led Harry back into the massive library that they had visited earlier. The pair went to one of the bookshelves on the far wall, well hidden behind the other high-backed shelves. Merlin lifted one of his hands, and a section of the bookcase slid aside to reveal a small, softly lit room.  Stepping inside the room, Merlin again raised his hand and the bookcase slid back in place, trapping them inside. Once the opening was fully sealed, light flared up around them, and the floor began to quickly descend. Harry did not know how far they had gone down into the earth before the platform stopped. A long corridor awaited them upon their arrival. When they reached the end of the corridor, a large circular boulder rolled aside to allow them entry into a cavernous area. Harry could barely make out where the room ended. He could, however, feel the pulses of magical energy that surrounded and shielded this structure. 

            "Welcome Harry, to _Sanctuary_. In this place, you will learn as well as have a chance to practice. Mental based magic can be safely practiced down here before you learn to shield your power and technique. Conversations and even powerful uses of magic cannot be detected down here, since we are so close to the heartstone. Any spike in magical energy will just be attributed to current flow abnormalities. The room is shielded with everything I could think of. It is safe for you to practice more dangerous spells down here; much like the Academy's training facilities. It allows you to train in any way you would like. Before you enter, you only have to picture what you need for training, and the room will fill with what is necessary. Also, have you decided which branch of the academy to do studies in?" 

            "I am interested in developmental magic," Harry answered sadly. "but the truth of the matter is that I have no other choice. I need to learn battle magic to fight off Voldemort." 

            Merlin nodded. "Well, even though the academy is on break for another couple of days, it does not mean that we should not get started on the rest of your training. Tomorrow morning, we will proceed with your language lessons, followed by training in foci-less based magic. After lunch, I will send you to a friend of mine, who will determine who your physical combat trainers will be. And then you and I will have another session after dinner. Now, I think it is time for bed. I have a feeling that you will need your rest." 

            Harry could only nod as he was led out of _Sanctuary_ and back into the library. He had a lot to think about. How was he going to handle everything? What would tomorrow be like? In addition, the room that he was just in resembled the Room of Requirement, so closely; he wondered if it was possible that not everything from this civilization was lost. 

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A/N: Sorry for the time between updates. Finals are coming up, so a lot of studying is being done. I will try to write the next chapter during the plane ride home, if not sooner. Again, the more reviews… the faster I write =) Thanks for the feedback!!!


	7. Training Day Part 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the Flame and the Void, etc. 

A/N: Chapters may slow down, since I have an idea of what I'm going to do for the end, but I still am not sure what the path is to get there. Like a true fantasy novel – You know the good guys are gonna win but how…?

Chapter 7: Training Day (Part 1)

            The sunrise over Norhaven was spectacular. Rays of light glinted off droplets of water that had gathered from the early morning dew.  It was an amazing sight to see; unfortunately Harry was not in any position to enjoy the display put on by nature. 

            Instead, Harry was awoken long before light could touch the horizon. Since he arrived in the past, Harry had not had a single Voldemort-related nightmare. So, he had started to enjoy sleep again. This morning, however, his dreams were rudely interrupted by Krayfar, who roughly pulled the covers aside, sending Harry tumbling to the ground. 

            "Master Merlin has told Krayfar to advise Master Harry to learn to get up on time", warned the house-elf, setting down clothes on the bedside and ignoring Harry's sprawled form on the floor. "Please wash and dress quickly, breakfast has already been made." 

            Harry slowly sat up and looked back at the bed longingly. He noticed that the room was dark and blurry, an indication that he was up much earlier than he would have liked. Krayfar had already left by the time Harry saw fit to drag himself to the bathroom. 

            "Well," he thought to himself. "At least they have hot running water here." 

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            After Harry had stepped out from his bath, he donned the garb that the house-elf had left for him. 

            "Not bad, not bad at all," commented the mirror as Harry passed by it. 

            Looking at his reflection, he could see that his appearance definitely had changed. He was now about five feet, ten inches tall, which was due to a sudden growth spurt over the summer. If he ever figured out how to return to his time, he would no longer be the shortest male in his year. He was still thin, but due to the recent exercise and food, he could notice muscles beginning to bulge. Also, his tanned complexion made him look much healthier than the pale look did. His hair was still unruly, but had grown out a bit, covering the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. With his darker skin and black hair, his emerald green eyes shone even brighter than before. 

            The medieval clothing given to him was strange, but not altogether uncomfortable. He was wearing a set of midnight-blue, almost black, pants and shirt. Over this set he wore what could only be described as a long and sleeveless silver jacket. The jacket had no fastenings and was left open in the front. Harry could not identify the material, but it was very soft, smooth, and lightweight. 

            "I hope that it won't take too long for me to get used to this schedule," said Harry to no one in particular. 

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            Merlin was waiting in the dining area, munching on a nearby pastry.  

            "Why are young ones always late? First Wart, now Harry," he muttered to himself. 

            Merlin wondered how he always got himself into these situations. He had already lost one protégée, why is he so willing to take in another. Did he take in Harry because he wanted to make amends for Arthur's failure? And what if Harry failed too, what then? "Could I handle having another's blood on my hands again?"

            Just as he finished his thought, Harry came running in, mumbling a quick apology before seating himself at the table and eating with gusto. 

            Composing himself and steering his mind away from such morbid thoughts, Merlin began, "We will start with the language lessons after you finish wolfing down your breakfast. From what I have heard of your type of speech, your language has some similar words, but it is mostly derived from other languages. So, I will cast a learning charm in order to aid you in absorbing the intricacies of pronunciation and grammar. To survive in this society, however, one must also learn how to converse with a certain 'cultural' poise. So, I will endeavor to impart you with that sort of knowledge." 

            "How long do you think it will take me to learn?" 

            "For most people, they are taught cultural etiquette since early childhood. Since you are such a 'quick' study at foci-less magic, I believe you may learn before the age of eighty-seven." Merlin said jokingly, while dodging a roll Harry had hurled at him. 

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            When Harry was finished with his meal, he was brought to the library, and directed to sit in front of a worn looking desk. 

            "Ah, this desk is an ancient relic, I often taught young Wart from this table," said Merlin fondly, waving his hands to summon quite a few large old tombs from the surrounding shelves. 

            "Who was Wart?" 

            "He was an old friend, who I tutored in his childhood, and advised in adulthood. Although, after he pulled Excalibur from the stone, there were none who dared call him anything but Arthur." 

            "Wait, King Arthur?" Harry exclaimed. Somehow, even though he had known his teacher was famous in the Muggle world for being Arthur's advisor, Harry did not fully realize that particular fact until now. 

            "Yes," replied Merlin, sadly. "The former King of Britain was my pupil. He was put to rest with Excalibur about a week previous to our meeting. He was killed in battle against his bastard son, Mordred. The Kingdom was shattered after the loss of the king. Now the entire isle of Britain has reverted back to the 'Might is Right' way of life. These new 'countries' are nothing more than dens of thieves, festering with tyranny and malevolence." 

            "But I digress," Merlin said, quickly changing the subject. "Read the first three chapters in this first book, and we will continue with your magical education an hour after dawn." 

            In Harry's mind, an eternity passed before the coming of dawn, though it was only about an hour and a half. He was tired of reading, his eyes hurt, and the translating spells must have been taking more out of him than he thought. It was not that the culture was uninteresting, but it would have been much more fascinating if Harry was given more sleep before such an endeavor was undertaken. Instead of trying to finish the assigned chapters, he found his eyelids drooping, and his head resting comfortably on the old, yet soft, pages. 

            So, when he entered the room to retrieve his apprentice, Merlin found himself in front of a happily dozing Harry. Grinning, Merlin made gestures with one hand, floating the books away. With the other hand, he conjured a bucket of water, which was dumped on Harry, leaving Merlin with a very drenched, but awake, pupil. 

            "Time to get up," announced Merlin, happily. "Follow me to the Sanctuary." 

            After proceeding through the security precautions of the underground training room, Merlin immediately began to run Harry through a series of exercises designed to shorten the time needed to clear his mind. By this stage of training, Harry was able to stably hover in the blankness of his mind within the blink of an eye. Of course, Merlin would demand more, but that would be done at a later time. 

            "Better," commented Merlin on Harry's mind clearing abilities. "Now, I want you to count these tiles, and then memorize the shape, color, and position of each." 

            "What tiles," asked Harry, confused. 

            "These," replied Merlin. Around the pair, a myriad of tiles appeared, as far as the eye could see. They were composed of different geometrical shapes: circles, squares, triangles, diamonds, etc. Each tile was red, blue, yellow, white, or black colored. 

            "Please count as many as possible," continued Merlin, eyes twinkling with mirth. "You have until lunch to work on this assignment. Oh, and I daresay that falling asleep would not be a good idea." 

            With that, Merlin left Sanctuary, and Harry knelt down on the floor, starting to count. "One, two…" 

            By the time lunch rolled around Harry was wondering if he would die of boredom. That or if his teacher was not Merlin, but a wizard who escaped from an insane asylum. Harry was still on his knees, awake, when Merlin came to fetch him. 

            "Ah, since you are close to the door, I presume that you are either done or a loafer." 

            "This is my third time counting, much good it is doing me," Harry sighed. "I am not going to ask how this is going to help my magical education since I have already been mistaken once. However, I am still having trouble seeing why this exercise is useful." 

            Merlin, becoming serious, asked, "How many tiles are there total?" 

            "Two thousand twenty six" 

            "How many reds?"

            "Two hundred and twelve"

            "Triangles?" 

            "Three hundred and one" 

            "Now," said Merlin, in a softer voice. "Tell me how many stars can be made with blue and red tiles?" 

            "Um… Seven, I think" Harry replied, trying to picture the tiles in his mind. "But I'm not exactly sure; you didn't ask me to count for that kind of thing." 

            Merlin slightly frowned, but continued, "Much of magic consists of what we call 'Greater Spells'. These spells usually involve multiple components of simpler enchantments. So, to perform any sort of Greater Spell, even with a focus, one must keep track of each individual component, while still keeping the larger picture in the mind's eye." 

             "What is considered a Greater Spell," Harry asked. "Again, this is another thing that I have never heard of in my time. 

            "Interesting," said Merlin, stroking his chin. "That you do not have Greater Spells in your time. Anyhow, you will soon encounter Greater Spells in Battle Magic, for example. Throwing a fireball is not as simple as you might believe. It is made of more than flames. You will find that there are more parts at work in each of those categories than you would normally imagine. So, at the academy, you will have to not only concentrate on your outcome and power level, but also on these mechanics of magic."

            Harry stood up, a new determination in his eyes. "I guess I will be down here counting after dinner." 

            At this, Merlin just laughed, and clapped Harry on the back. "Aye lad, but I'll make sure you'll have a full belly before you have to come down here again. But let us not talk of dinner while lunch still has yet to be devoured." 

A/N: As always, reviews are always welcome, appreciated, and nitro for my writing. Thanks to everyone for the encouraging remarks! 

Might is Right is taken from T.H. White's _The Once and Future King. I know the philosophy is modern, but then again he is one of the most famous authors of Arthurian legend. _

Special thanks to my beta-reader Sean, who puts up with my filibustering and bad grammar. 


	8. Training Day Part 2

Disclaimer: I only own what is mine, and if I could make a claim on Harry Potter, I'd be quite wealthy by now. Please read previous chapters for the disclaimer. 

Chapter 8: Training Day (Part 2): 

            Walking on the white paved road and looking around seemed much different to Harry after Merlin cast the spell to rid Harry of his glasses. Everything seemed, well _brighter and more vibrant. It seemed as if he had never known the world before now. He never realized that those trees could be 'that' shade of green, nor the sky so blue. When Merlin first proposed the idea of magical vision correction after lunch, Harry had been skeptical. He was worried since this type of magic was not available in his time. He recalled the conversation with his teacher: _

            "You will be starting combat training this afternoon, and I do not believe that your instructor will approve of the corrective gear you wear over your eyes." 

            "You mean my glasses?" said Harry, almost in a panic. "But I can't see without them!" 

            "Not to worry my boy." Merlin stood and walked over to Harry. "There is a spell that will allow me to heal your eyes. Now the question is recalling how to cast it. Let me think." 

            "Wait, you don't remember how to cast it?" 

            "Just a momentary lapse, it is only temporary. Oh… Aha!" Before Harry could get away, Merlin had already passed his hand over Harry's eyes. 

            The world became much blurrier from Harry's perspective. He could barely see the outline of things. Merlin must have cast the wrong spell, his eyes had gotten worse! He stumbled around the dining table, hearing Merlin chuckling the entire time. Founder of modern magic or not, Harry was about to start blindly casting hexes with his still underdeveloped foci-less magic skills. "I can't see anything! Everything's fuzzy, the spell didn't work." 

            "Have you tried taking off those glasses of yours?" laughed Merlin. 

            "Oh…" said Harry, feeling more than stupid. He took off his glasses, and the world suddenly became a great deal sharper. He closed his eyes and reopened them to discover that the results remained unchanged. "How long does the spell last?" 

            "The spell is permanent." replied Merlin, still with a grin on his face. "Anyways, you had better head off so you will not be late for your physical combat training. Take this street back to the main road, then walk until you reach _Guard's Way. Follow the __Way to the end. There is only one entrance to the complex" _

            Walking down _Guard's Way_, Harry noticed that the buildings here were much larger, and less comforting for some reason. The _Way did not resemble a street as much as it resembled a long driveway. An open iron gate marked the beginning of the street. The street was straight, for the most part, but encircled a fountain at the end, before curving back upon itself. The ground past the gate was paved with grey, instead of white, cobblestone. Buildings made of white marble surrounded _Guard's Way_, forming a U-shape if seen from above. Narrow window slits could be seen on the highest levels of the buildings. "To shoot out spells", Harry mumbled softly. _

            There was no one around as Harry approached the massive oaken doors, which stood open at the apex of the building, marking the entrance to the complex. Also, there was an absence of people in the torch-lit corridor that stretched out before him.  

            "_For such a large building, there really doesn't seem to be many people around", Harry thought to himself, without noticing the two figures that materialized, silently, out of the shadows behind him.  _

            He kept walking, until finally, he reached a dead end. "Great_." Harry fumed, "There's no place else to go, now what?" _

            As he was turning around, Harry noticed movement out of the corner of his left eye. Harry ducked, and the hand that reached out to grab Harry met only with air. He got up quickly, savagely driving his shoulder up and into his unknown assailant. Harry was satisfied with the dull thud his attacker's body made when it dropped back down onto the hard stone floor. 

            Suddenly, the torches extinguished themselves, and Harry was left in total darkness. He didn't know in which direction to run. If he made the wrong choice, he would end up with his back against a dead end, instead of the exit. 

            "_But if I stay here, I'm going to die for sure." Harry decided, picking a direction, and slowly inching himself forward. _

            Moving onward, Harry could make out the faint sound of footfalls behind him. He picked up the pace and began to run. Then, he heard louder footfalls coming from in front of him. 

            "_I'm surrounded!" panicked Harry, coming to a full stop.  He could move neither backward nor forward. It was then that he began to hear footfalls coming towards him in all directions. _

            "This can't be real," whispered Harry to himself. He began to concentrate on separating the sounds, trying to break the illusion that held him captive. His mind screamed for him to run, to stop this foolishness, but deep down Harry knew this was part of the illusion. He used his fears as fuel to feed the flame, driving himself deeper into the void. The further Harry was immersed in the void, the more his perceptions began to increase in sensitivity. 

            "_There!" Harry said to himself, when the illusion broke. "_He's in front of me._" _

            This time, instead of waiting for his assailant to attack, Harry purposefully ran straight into the other, knocking the wind out of his attacker. Harry was able to get off a punch to the guts and jaw, before his legs were swept out from under him. He landed painfully on the ground. A knee was brought down, hard, into his chest, pinning him down on the cold stone. Harry could hear the hiss of a blade clearing its scabbard before the sharp edge of cold steel was pressed against his throat. 

            "Yield," a voice softly said, prior to continuing more loudly. "Agile, creative, and packs quite a punch. What do you think Cassius?" 

            "Ow, I think I am going to be quite sore tomorrow morning," replied another voice in the darkness. "But Merlin was right; this young one has potential, what uncle would call a born warrior. I would wager he could make blademaster in a few years." 

            "He would make it in a few years, if he was taught by _you. _Of course, with _my_ tutelage, I think half a year would be sufficient" chuckled the one kneeling on top of Harry. "Oh, sorry, where are my manners. Allow me to help you up." 

            A hand grasped Harry's arm, pulling him to his feet. Harry could hear the sheathing of the blade that had previously been poised to kill. The torches flared, filling the corridor with, what seemed to Harry, light brighter than the sun. As his eyes grew accustomed to the now lit room, he began to make out the visage of his two assailants. 

            Of the two standing in front of Harry, the one on the left, nursing his backside, Harry assumed to be Cassius. Cassius looked to be around six feet tall, but not bulky. He did not have broad shoulders, but nor did he look weak. His build spoke of agility, fluidity, and grace. He possessed a slightly pointed chin, with grey eyes, and shoulder-length brown hair. Cassius was dressed in leather breeches, dyed green, and a shimmering shirt that seemed to be some sort of mail, but made of a cloth-like material. Around his torso, he wore a well used battle harness, which held sword and scabbard. The sword blade resembled a wave, narrow at the hilt, but curving and becoming wider towards the tip. Below the hilt, the curved handle was half the sword length, and made of gold, with leather wrappings for the grip.  

            The one on the right bowed to Harry saying, "Apprentice Potter, I apologize for the false attack, but we had to test if you could be taught. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Cathal, and this is my younger brother Cassius." 

            "Younger by thirteen minutes you mean," retorted Cassius, laughing. "We are twins, but my brother often likes to claim that those thirteen extra minutes of experience are enough to set us apart." 

            Cathal was almost identical to Cassius in build and looks; he was even similarly armed and attired.  However, Cathal was about an inch taller, and seemed to carry himself with more confidence than his brother. At first glance, Harry missed the most obvious feature shared by both brothers: their pointed ears. 

            "_They're elves," Harry thought to himself, amazed. "_They look more like the elves described in stories, than the house-elves that we have. In fact, I've never heard of an elf that wasn't a house elf." __

            Before he could speculate further, Cathal interrupted Harry's thoughts by saying, "Put your hand on the wall and repeat three times, in your mind, your full name." 

            So, Harry put his hand on the wall, causing a square on the stone wall to light up. After silently saying his name, the lighted square turned green and a female singsong voice said, "Identity confirmed, welcome Harry James Potter." Then the illusion of the corridor began to melt away. 

A/N: Ok, I try not to put these chapters at cliffhangers, but aren't all unresolved issues cliffhangers? Anyways, I want to thank everyone for reviewing, I hope they continue. LOL. And I want to specially thank my beta-reader Sean, who takes the time to listen to me ramble about my wacky story ideas! 

**Haplo111:** The building on _Guard's Way_ is a physical training facility, basically like barracks. And he decided on battle magic in chapter six. 


	9. The Choices We Make

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I don't own the Wheel of Time, and I don't own Green Eggs and Ham, Sam I am. 

Chapter 9: The Choices We Make

            After the walls had melted away in front of Harry's eyes, he found himself standing in a large hall, which bore a striking resemblance to the Great Hall at Hogwarts. 

The hall was brightly lit with torches on the stone walls, and candles floating high in the air. The ceiling was also enchanted to show the cloudless blue sky above them, with the sun giving a feeling of warmth, even though it was only illusory. Here, however, was where the similarities with Hogwarts ended. Instead of tables, there were rows and rows of padded stone benches. 

            Following Cathal down an aisle between the benches, Harry was awed with the gigantic tapestries, depicting grand scale battles, which adorned the walls. 

            "Wow," exclaimed Harry. "Those tapestries look as if they took years to make." 

            "Twenty four years," answered Cathal, without turning his head. "Of course the war took twice as long to finish, and it was not so near as 'majestic' as depicted on that tapestry." 

            "Ever since I got to Norhaven, I have seen monuments, walls, and tapestries, which showed some battle or another. Do the mages fight a lot of battles, or were they all just showing different parts of one big war?" asked Harry. 

            "The mages do not _fight_ battles, Harry, they just enjoy causing them and sending 'expendables' to deal with the situation." Cassius laughed, bitterly. 

            "What do you mean?" 

            "Since you are a pupil of Merlin's, let me try to explain. Remember, however, what we say here does not go beyond the three of us and your master," replied Cathal. "First, the mages are a power-hungry bunch, and will often do anything to gain power. Well, anything so long as they do not have to do the actual 'work'.  Whether it be humans, another species, or among themselves, the mages would make war upon any who may be as or more powerful then they are. They, however, do value their own soft hides. So, they send us 'expendables' in to fight, while they sit back and enjoy the smell of others' blood furthering their own interests." 

            "Expendables, you mean wizards who use wands?" asked Harry, confused. 

            "Yes, but they are considered 'less' expendable than the non-human races. Vampires, lycanthropes, centaurs, and elves like Cassius and I are considered, by the mages, to be undeserving of life energy. So, we are to 'serve a purpose' by conquering for those damned mages." stated Cathal, with vehemence. "Foci-wielders, on the other hand, mistakenly believe that they are any different from common fodder like us. They are fed the belief that they are superior to non humans, that their blood is at least pure wizarding blood, and not tainted with either magicless human or non-human impurities."

            "So, why do wizards think that they are better," asked Harry, trying to see the whole picture. "and no mages fight?" 

            "Wizards think that they are better because we non-humans are used in ways which are described by all senses of the word 'fodder'. We are ground units, sometimes armored, but relatively unprotected. All non-humans are forbidden to engage in using Battle Magic. Foci-wielders, however, either animate or control the giant rock golem units, or those talented enough to speak the dragon language become dragon riders. Some mages, usually those that could not handle the academy, are trained as Phoenix Knights. They are the 'elite' units of the Norhaven forces. They are deadly on both the ground and in the air. Most also can speak to dragons, but they prefer to directly take over the dragon's mind, thereby subjugating their mount, and destroying its will." 

            "It is brilliant what the mages have done to control the ranks," added Cassius. "foci-wielders are in the same straits as we are, but they kick us around, and thank the Magi for their position. The Knights are similar; they are the usually the worst of the foci-less wizards, but because they are given a position above the rest, they become haughty and swear loyalty to the mages. Each part of the magi forces sees the other as inferior, and thus inherently distrusts and hates them, with the exception of the non- humans, who only want to destroy those who conquered them. It is sad to see that the wizarding forces do not realize that they are seen by the rest of the city as substandard; they are blinded by what little power they are given." 

            Harry thought for a minute, and then asked, "Why have I never seen a non-human, dragon, or golem in the city? Who polices the city?" 

            "The interior of Norhaven is guarded by the City Sentinels, captured prisoners who are mind-trained to be only loyal to the mages. Some are magicless, some are not, but all can only respond to the orders given by the mage council. As for why you have not seen a non-human in the city, it is simple; we are forbidden. In fact, only phoenix knights can exit the compound without the penalty of death. Even the foci-wielders cannot enter the city. We are basically prisoners here." 

            "Why don't you just leave then?" Harry responded, hotly. He did not understand why they stood by placidly. "Why don't you fight back? I thought the magic possessed by non-humans were more powerful, why can't you use it?" 

            "Let me tell you a story," began Cathal, patiently. "Centuries ago, there was a great war among all the magical inhabitants for domination over the others. Each race was powerful in its own right, except for one: man. Man was weak, possessing less raw magical power and less physical skills too. Even the magic wielders of that race were seen as non-threatening, since they were lacking so far behind the rest of our advancements. Men, however, did not think of themselves that way. What we did not realize was that what they did not have in magical ability, they made up for in creativity, cunning, and ruthlessness. I can only speak from Elven history for what happened. Near the end of the war, the only two races that had enough strength to continue were the Elves and the Vampires. The rest were either allies or conquered. The humans, still relatively unhurt, saw their opportunity and snuck into Elven villages unnoticed. They proceeded to bind all the life energy of the elves to a single stone. They did this with all the races, in what we believe, to be a span of only three nights. The races were visited by the mages who bound us, and the stone that held our essence. At first the elves thought the humans were bluffing, but when they were able to strike down our armies with a single thought, we had no choice but to surrender. Thus, the humans began to dominate." 

"We could not stand, though we tried," Cathal said, dejectedly. "Decades after the defeat of the non-humans, two clans of elven brethren rebelled against human rule. Unfortunately, the conflict was short lived. All members of both clans were immediately executed, even the women, children, and elderly. Fields were filled with the bodies of Elves, drained of their magic and life force. As punishment for the insurrection, the mages destroyed another two clans from the Elves, as well as a vampire city and centaur village. The last two were meant to be reminders against rebellion. The terms of peace were harsh on us; all races were to send three quarters of their forces to serve in the magi army, and all non-humans were forbidden to do magic, outside of service to the city. Failure to comply would mean the extermination of another clan. We are of the Llordi clan, the last of the Elven people. We cannot afford to rebel, to do so would mean the extermination of our entire race!" 

"What about the stone," Harry asked. "Couldn't you try to steal it back?" 

"We would as easily steal a mountain," replied Cassius from behind Harry. "The stone was the seed for the heartstone. It is now a crystal which spans the area beneath Norhaven. Only the triumvirate of the Mage Council has access to the subterranean passageway leading to the stone. We do not know the consequences of the stone's destruction, or if it can even be destroyed. It seems hopeless" 

The three remained silent, each immersed in their own thoughts. Harry was so immersed in his own thoughts, that he did not notice Cathal stopping. So, he ended up walking straight into Cathal, with Cassius plowing into Harry. Needless to say, the three ended up in a heap on the ground. When Harry finally extracted his entangled limbs, he looked around at his surroundings. They were in a courtyard of some sort; he could see the sky above him again. At first Harry thought that the sky was enchanted, until he felt the warm spring breeze on his face. Looking around, they seemed to be in a circular pit. The ground was made up of soft, and unsurprisingly, white sand. There were multiple smaller circles, where sparring seemed to be held. He could see people sword fighting, one on one, two on one, and even some three on one matches. 

"Harry," said Cathal, lightly tapping him on the shoulder. "Are you going to stand there all day, or are you going to learn?" 

"Sorry Cathal," Harry flushed, looking embarrassed for letting his attention wander. 

"No worries, young ones do tend to enjoy watching those matches. Anyways, follow me." Cathal led Harry to a room adjoining the pit. In the dim lighting, Harry could make out that this was an armory. Arrayed around the room were weapons for almost any occasion. There were long swords, short swords, javelins, spears, bows, and some that he didn't know the name of. Harry almost thought he was in some sort of movie, instead of being trapped in a land before his time. 

Cassius came up to him and said, "Go around the room, try out every weapon, and come back with the one that feels the most comfortable to you."

"Okay," replied Harry, looking around. He picked up a staff, similar in length to Merlin's. It felt like it could be used, but it didn't feel 'right'. So, he put it down, and picked up a bow instead. The feeling of wrongness, like wading in sewage, increased, and he returned the weapon to the rack. He went over to some wicked looking maces. Without touching them, Harry already could feel that they would not go well. He also passed by the spears and daggers. Next, he picked up a sword. The sense of rightness that he felt was similar to the feeling that he had when he found his wand. The blade was straight about thirty inches long, and three fingers wide. The cross guard was small, only extending about one quarter of an inch past the blade on each side enough to stop one's hand from accidentally slipping onto the blade. The handle of the sword was not long, being made for only one handed use. It was a lightweight sword, crafted for speed. 

Harry brought his choice back to the twins. "A Celtic long sword, interesting choice there." Cassius snapped his fingers and the blade disappeared. In its place, appeared a wooden replica of the sword. 

"We can not have you cutting yourself up just yet," laughed Cathal. "What kind of teachers would we be? Do not look so dejected, these weapons are enchanted so that their compatibility with each wielder would be amplified. You will be using the wooden practice sword for a while, and then we will move onto the practice blunted ones once you are ready." 

Once they were in the practice arena, Cassius grinned, saying, "Ah, let us begin, shall we? First lesson of the day: learning to run." Before he began sprinting to the farthest side of the practice arena, with Harry grimacing behind him all the way. 

            Harry did not know how he made it home that night. His body was sore from all the exercises that the Elven twins had put him through. They covered not only conditioning, but basic drills, and the forms: _Owl's Talons Catching Prey, and __The rising of the Unicorn's Horn. He was not only physically exhausted, however, but he was mentally exhausted from dwelling on all the injustices that have been visited upon the non-humans. Throughout the training, his thoughts kept going back to their plight, and how it could be solved. _

"Hermione would probably have come up with something, like S.L.A.C.K., Society for the Liberation of All Creatures and their Kin." Harry thought to himself, amusedly. 

"And Ron would…", Harry couldn't finish his thought. It had just fully dawned on him that he may not see his friends again for a very long time, if ever. "How long am I going to be here for? Weeks? Months? Years? If I did return, would they even know I was gone? Would I come back to them as an old man? Would they even recognize me? Would they even remember me after so long? Both Ron and Hermione would have families by then, maybe even with each other." 

"And Ginny, she would probably have found someone else too," Harry thought dejectedly, without realizing why. 

Thoughts of possible futures dominated his mind. Somehow, returning to count tiles was the last thing on Harry's mind. 

A/N: Well, the school year is upon me once more, so new chapters may come out quite sporadically. However, the more reviews I get, the higher the probability I would feel inclined to write more. Yes, that was a shameless request for reviews! But I do thank all the reviewers, who make me happy that someone does enjoy reading my take on Harry Potter. 

Thanks again to Sean for all his hard work in correcting my grammar, and giving me stuff to think about! 


	10. Academy of Magic

Disclaimer: Since I do not profit from any of this, it really doesn't matter who owns it does it? But my credit goes to J.K Rowling for creating Harry Potter. 

A/N: Sorry for the long wait guys. Too much work lately. This is a longer chapter, hope you enjoy it! 

Chapter 10: Academy of Magic

            "Concentrate harder or you will never be able to perform thought-magic." Merlin practically screamed at Harry. "I do not care which girl you daydream about, just so long as it is not when I am trying to teach you!" 

            "I wasn't daydreaming about anyone!" Harry protested hotly, flushing. In actuality, he had been thinking about the attractive brown-haired girl who had visited the shop with her father earlier. "I just don't see why I have to learn to levitate that feather with my mind. I can do it just as easily with my wand or with my hands. Besides, I've already gotten the hang of performing magic wandless, isn't that good enough?" 

            "First, you do not have the 'hang' of performing foci-less magic, since all you have done so far is to perform basic spells. Secondly…" Merlin grinned nastily, before his eyes began to resonate with power. Suddenly, Harry could not move any part of his body. He was petrified, literally. "If you can break out of that with your wand or hands, I would like to see you try. I agreed to teach you, so that you may have a fighting chance in defeating this Voldemort. I do not take my obligations lightly. I _will_ teach you, even if I have to beat that information into your thick skull!" 

            "I get the point. Can you let me up?" Harry pleaded helplessly from the floor. 

            "I really should just leave you there all day, so that you will learn your lesson." Merlin sighed, his countenance softening. "But I was once a student and I know that it is hard to accept the utility of certain teachings until later in life. Remember, however, contrary to what others say about you, that you are not invincible, nor immortal. You cannot afford to be reckless." 

            The magic bindings holding Harry drained away as Merlin released the spell. Ever since Merlin bound them together as master and apprentice, Harry could've sworn that he could 'see' any magic that he or his master performed. It wasn't really sight, which Harry possessed, but it was almost like a second magical sense. The feeling was sometimes so strong that he could make out the shapes of spells, and taste the sweetness of the power around him. Sometimes he really felt that he could do anything, and that scared him. 

            However, Merlin did not give Harry the chance to dwell on his fears. Since they arrived at Norhaven, Harry's days were filled with a constant deluge of learning and practice; there was almost no time to think. Today had not been an exception. He had been in _Sanctuary_ practicing before the sun had even broken the horizon. Harry was tired from trying to cast spells with only his mind to shape his magic. His body ached for sleep. Though his mind at least was kept from dwelling on his predicament, or women. 

            "Again," Merlin ordered. "We do not have all day for your woolgathering." 

            "Right," Harry complied, bringing his mind immediately to stillness, a skill that he had finally mastered. He was aware of his surroundings, but he no longer let those surroundings disturb his inner calm. His mind and body acted separately in this state. Next, he drew on the unseen magical energies surrounding them, only augmenting from his own inner reserves of energy when necessary. Now came the part he was having trouble with: shaping the magic to perform the spell. He forced down the instinct to '_swish and flick_' an imaginary wand, while chanting the Latin incantation. Similarly, he had to tightly hold both hands in front of him, in order to prevent himself from using his hands to wandlessly focus the spell. 

            "_I just need to convince myself that I can do this solely with my mind. I shouldn't need an outside focus," Harry told himself. "_No, I will_ __do this without relying on crutches!"_

            Fiercely concentrating, Harry pictured a web of energy softly encircling the entire surface of the feather. In his mind, the web slowly became the surface of a thumb and a forefinger. He could see it clearly now, a translucent, glowing, blue hand made of energy, had the feather securely pinched, but not too tightly so as to damage it. This time, instead of trying to use magical energies to manipulate the feather itself, he used his mind to control the 'hand' holding the feather. The hand slowly began to rise with a thought, higher and higher. To the casual onlooker, it would seem that even though there was no breeze, the feather still rose softly, like it was acting of its own volition. 

            Harry smiled; he had finally done it. Merlin merely nodded, saying, "Good. You did well, though I would not be getting an over-inflated head over it. Remember that this is only a simple spell. Since you mastered it 'so easily', however, we will move to the next lesson: perceptions when casting." 

            "Lad, what do you think is harder to lift with a spell, a mountain or a pebble?" Merlin asked straight-faced. 

            "Easy, you need more magical energy to lift a mountain." Harry said, quite confident of his answer. 

            "What if I told you that it is just because you perceive that the mountain requires more energy to lift, which causes you to believe that impossible amounts of power must be needed? Thus, you set limitations for your own mind about what is possible and what is not possible."

            "You mean I could lift a mountain with my thoughts?"

            "Well," replied Merlin, hesitating. "If there was no earth magic binding the mountain to the earth and so on, then yes, you could lift a rock the size of a mountain. However, the trick is to forget the size of it. As a child, it would be fairly easy to do. But since you are growing up, putting increasing amounts of limitations on the possible actions of your mind, you will have more trouble. The trick, now, is to think of the mountain, not as a mountain, but as a pebble. If you can convince your mind that what you see is really only the size of a pebble, the mind will act as if the object _is a pebble. Call it 'self-deception' if you will." _

            "So I can use my mind to trick my _mind_?" Harry asked, incredulously. "Seems like some tapes my aunt used to listen to, something about _Success through Self-Hypnosis_. And just like those tapes were hogwash, this seems to be too!" 

            Harry immediately regretted jumping to such an early conclusion. Merlin looked as if his student had taken one step forward, only to go flying miles backward. Yet, Harry's master only gave a wordless sigh. 

            Merlin snapped his fingers upon which a gigantic boulder was provided by the room. "Let us then disprove those who would say this is 'hogwash'. Remember to think of a pebble as you lift." 

            Taking a deep breath, Harry began to gather energy to himself. "Why did I have to open my big mouth?" he silently asked himself, wanting to avoid the risk of angering his teacher again. He only hoped that lunch would bring a respite. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            During the midday meal, Harry found out that the Academy would formally re-open its doors that afternoon. In reality, he was anxious about meeting people his own age. The only people, outside of Merlin, that he had spent any significant amount of time talking to were the twins. The two weeks spent with the Elven twins, however, was mostly used in refining Harry's techniques with the long sword. Also, the few students that he had occasionally seen, while running errands for Merlin, strongly reminded Harry of Draco Malfoy. They were loud, stuck-up, and extremely elitist. From what Harry had heard of the city's actions, he did not doubt that the entire school could be filled with these people. One house of elitist purebloods he could stand, but an entire school? 

            "Well," Harry thought to himself, walking in the direction of the Academy. "I have one consolation at least, they've never heard of the 'Boy Who Lived'."

            Without even looking up, Harry could feel the _Spire of Wisdom_ towering above him. The meeting place of the Mage Council looked to be hewn out of one piece of opaque crystal. It rose far above the city, almost being able to touch the clouds. Although the tower's shining brightness was apparent even during the day, Harry felt like he was walking in shadows whenever he approached it. It was almost as if the whiteness of the exterior were trying to conceal the darkness that Harry knew was present in the Spire. Unfortunately, he would have no choice but to pass through the _Square of the Magi, since the Academy was also located in the center of the city.  _

            As he approached the Academy, Harry realized that there were more students in attendance than he originally expected. There was a horde of people milling around beyond three crystalline columns, which he assumed marked the entranceway to the academy. There were, however, no visible signs of how to gain entrance. Harry could see the large white marble and stone structure rising above the heads of other students, casting a slight shadow over the area. It would not be a tall building in London, but here in Norhaven, it was an impressive sight. The Academy stood at a height of around four stories, and had a girth that would encompass a few blocks. Surprisingly, there were no windows on the sides of the building. Looking at the ancient school, Harry felt as if it had been standing since the beginning of time. 

            The three crystal columns were transparent, with only a trace of opacity. They were arranged in a triangular fashion, where two columns were placed flush on one face of the building, each set about forty feet apart; and the third column was placed in the middle, between the other two columns, but set about twenty feet away from the wall. There was only empty space between the columns, but Harry, like the other students, somehow felt disinclined to cross the imaginary boundaries set by the triangles. 

            The students themselves were unlike what Harry had seen before at Hogwarts. There was still a wide range of age groups present. Merlin had told him that a student starts at the Academy from the age of fourteen. For Battle Magic, there were four levels; admission to the each level would depend not on passing final examinations, but on factors of power development, concentration, and learning ability. The material of each level was similar; the upper levels simply covered more of it. Hence, it was possible to finish learning at the Academy in only one year, since one could graduate by simply learning all the fourth level material. 

            "Hello, my name's Willium, is this your first time here?" asked a high tenor voice, startling Harry. He spun around looking for the voice of the speaker, finding it in the form of a short, slightly over weight, sandy-haired boy. 

            "Yes", Harry answered, feeling slightly embarrassed for being snuck up upon so easily. "I'm Harry. Is it yours?" 

            "Yes, though I do hope to get into the second level. All my friends are in the second level! They all left me last year, and now I'm scared that they won't even talk to me, since they're all in a 'higher' level this year." Willium looked down at his feet, but Harry could still tell that he was almost in tears. 

            "Hey, don't cry. I'm sure they'll still be your friends. Besides, I'll be your friend." 

            "Really?" Willium asked, wide-eyed. 

            "Of course," said Harry, smiling. He rarely had younger people come and talk to him, without that look of hero-worship in their eyes. So, he was more than happy just being someone's friend, and not the 'Boy Who Lived'. "So, can you tell me about this school?" 

            While they were waiting, Willium proceeded to explain the history of the school, and the reasons behind its conception. It turned out that Harry's new friend knew quite a lot. Harry guessed that Willium's knowledge of Norhaven was due to his father's place on the Mage Council. 

            After about half an hour had elapsed, a magically amplified voice announced, "Welcome students, to a new year of training. Within these doors you will not only learn the magical arts, but honor, courage, and wisdom. I, Darron Snowforth, Headmaster of the Norhaven Academy of Magic, formally declare the doors of learning open!" 

            The voice cut off abruptly, and the crystals each began to glow a different color. The two further back were light blue and green, respectively, while the one closest to Harry and Willium glowed a deep amethyst. A flash of light revealed doorways between the blue and amethyst, and the green and amethyst crystals. The doorways opened with a loud clang, signaling to the students to begin filing in. 

            The two new students entered and found themselves in a long line that formed facing one out of five statues that were arrayed in front of the room. Each statue looked to be carved in the shape of Norhaven's representation of wisdom. 'Wisdom' was a white marble male Grecian statue, with short curly hair, and sightless eyes. He was clothed in flowing white robes, and had his hands held in front of him, palms facing upwards. On each palm, was a glowing red crystal, polished so well, that there were no edges left on the surface. Standing next to each statue was a black robed magus, who would direct the students to go to one of the large stairways that were located at the back of the cavernous chamber, after they had placed their hands on the crystals. 

            The line moved quickly, and Harry soon found himself facing the statue of 'Wisdom'. 

            "Place both hands on the crystals," directed the Magus. 

            "Okay," Harry said meekly, not trusting himself to say more. He was apprehensive as he slowly laid his palms on the glowing gems. He felt a presence in his mind, and for a moment he had thought that this process would be like Sorting at Hogwarts. He was _very_ wrong. He felt as if a thousand needles were shoved into his brain, and that someone was simultaneously trying to pull it out. He had survived the tortures of Voldemort, but this seemed a hundred times worse, and a thousand times longer. When he felt that he was about to lose consciousness, the pain unexpectedly stopped. Harry touched his head, to make sure it was still present and without holes. 

            A bronze pin showing four bars appeared on the collar of his robes. The magus had no expression on his face, only saying. "Level four, battle mage training. Take the center staircase." 

            And so, Harry walked with legs that felt as if they were made of jelly, up the stairs. 

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            The amphitheatre that held all levels of battle magic students was larger than the previous hall he was in. The seats were located on one side of the room, and sloped down two stories, before meeting a shimmering magical shield. There were many small groups of students arrayed in the stands, making introductions, meeting new acquaintances, and greeting old friends. Harry suppressed his desire to see Ron and Hermione again. 

"_Thinking about it won't help." Harry berated himself. "__Don't think about it, worrying about the situation doesn't change matters." _

Before he continued, Harry stopped, took a deep breath, and counted to ten. Satisfied that he could go on without thinking about his friends, he went in search of Willium. 

He found Willium sitting in the middle row, closer to the left side of the amphitheatre. Willium wasn't alone though; sitting next to him was the girl that had visited the shop earlier in the day. Harry didn't think that he had seen anyone that beautiful before, not even Cho Chang. The girl was tall, about five foot seven. She had an angelic face, with big brown eyes, and wavy chestnut brown hair that fell past her shoulders. She was wearing forest green robes, with a brown belt, which had a leaf emblazoned on the buckle. Her robes, like that of many other females, fit better than the robes worn by the opposite sex. 

When Harry finally reached Willium, the girl had already gotten to her feet. "Oh no, I'm going to be late for the Healer orientation," she said hurriedly, before she ran off in the other direction. 

Harry could only stare at her open-mouthed. When he looked down, Willium was giving Harry an all-knowing smirk that belied Willium's true age. 

"You may want to sit down before you start to catch flies like a frog." Willium stated, laughing. 

Harry sat down feeling the red beginning to creep up his cheeks. He resolved: _No more thinking about girls!_

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            After the orientation session, Harry walked with Willium into the last day they would see of the cooler spring air. The days were getting progressively hotter, signaling the beginning of summer. 

            The lecture itself was impressive. They were given the introductory demonstrations of what battle magic was capable of. A spell was cast on the entire audience to allow the students to see not only the results of the spell, but the different components that are necessary to perform greater spells. Following the display of greater spells like fireballs, blizzards, and lightning storms, the students were reminded of their 'responsibilities' to Norhaven. As a fourth level student, which still surprised Harry, he would be required to take three classes: Greater Spells, Tactics, and the Art of Magical Combat. He didn't doubt that these skills would help him against Voldemort when he got back, _if he ever got back. He shuddered at the thought of what may happen if he could not get back in time to stop Voldemort. _

            Suddenly, Harry saw two arms reach out and grab Willium. He was about to attack, when he realized that the two arms were decidedly feminine, belonging to a certain girl he had seen earlier. She gave Harry's new friend a hug and a kiss on the forehead. 

            "Congratulations on making second level Willium," exclaimed the girl, giving Willium another hug. She blushed when she saw Harry staring at them in confusion. 

            "Hi, my name is Allison." She said to Harry, extending her hand. 

            "Harry," he replied, trying to fight off blushing. 

            "It's nice to meet you. I'm glad that someone was there to take care of Willium. My little cousin can be a handful sometimes." 

            "Hey!" protested Willium. "I am not little, I'm fourteen! Besides, Harry's my new friend."

            "It wasn't a problem. As Willium said, we are friends," said Harry, trying not to say or do anything that would make a fool of himself. He was considering the feasibility of carrying on a conversation using only smiles and nods, but decided against it. 

            "Well, we have to head home. It was very nice meeting you Harry," said Allison, giving Harry a smile that could also be seen in her eyes. 

            As Harry left for home, he couldn't believe he was still walking. His body felt like flying off in happiness, but his legs still felt like lead weights from nervousness. 

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A/N: Hope you liked it, thanks to all my reviewers again. You guys really gave me incentive to write this chapter.

Of course a special thanks to my beta-reader Sean =)

**Akuma-sama**: Don't worry about Harry becoming a god. Rowling, however, has already established that he's more powerful than an ordinary wizard, so I'll be building off of that. Besides, it's more fun to see Harry learn from his mistakes; otherwise I'd have no story whatsoever! 

**Charmed-103: **I was thinking about having flashbacks to "regular-time", but later you'll see why I can't do that. Oh, I do plan to do more than one book, so we'll see what happens then. 

**Mscs3: **Ha ha, sleep, what's that? This is a great form of procrastination. But it gets put on hold when homework and the like are due. Actually, that's what took so long for me to update. I had soo much homework over the past week that I'm still not done with. Well, homework and cover letters. Remember, sleep takes up 7 hours of your day =)


	11. Of Temporal Portals and Paradoxes

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter or Wheel of Time, but Merlin's personality is mine! 

A/N: Sorry for the delay in updates. I have lots of other work to do, which I actually should be doing now. *grimaces* 

Chapter 11: Of Temporal Portals and Paradoxes

            After dinner, Harry found himself pouring over a large musty tomb on '_Temporal Phenomena over the Ages'_, which contained various sightings of temporal mishaps that occurred over the past few centuries. Of course, the book itself was also quite dated. He and Merlin had been searching for hours, but were no closer to the answer than when they first began the search. Books were strewn all over the floor, and piles of them were stacked haphazardly next to each person in the room. Looking over in Merlin's direction, Harry thought it was comical how the venerable wizard was lost in the pile of books, which made a wall between him and the outside world. Movement from inside Merlin's 'fortress' was limited to the occasional summoned book. 

            Harry had just finished flipping through 'Phenomena', when he heard Merlin shout, "Eureka!" 

            The books that were so precariously stacked around Harry's teacher came toppling down, with a resounding thud. When the commotion had ended, Merlin stuck his head out of the pile, reading spectacles askew, and said, sheepishly, "I think I should practice shielding spells more often." 

            Lifting himself out of the pile, with Harry's help, Merlin continued, "I believe that I may have found something." 

            "This book," Merlin said, pulling out a battered volume from the pile. "was the journal of Medric Theoden, a wizard who lived before the founding of Norhaven. He has theorized that, '.Time is but a current, like the ever-flowing rivers that run across our beautiful landscape. The current moves in one direction, and we can only move with it. Few creatures are powerful enough to fight against the movement of water. Yet, even fewer are powerful enough to fight against the currents of time. I, however, believe that time can be conquered.'" 

            Merlin flipped through pages, stopping to read before the end of the journal. " '. my colleague Destin and I have discovered that hopping through time is possible. However, we have found that the road is fraught with danger. The amount of power necessary to jump even a few hours into the past is more than either of us possess. We have recently begun using a contraption that Destin has designed. Six witches and wizards, including Destin and myself, have poured our magic into the device. This new invention should allow us to travel against the time stream, without using our own magical energies. Destin thinks that we can only travel hours back because the energy was poured into an object external to the traveler. Since we now know that going back is possible, Destin is trying to convince me that if enough magic was poured into him, that he would be able to go further against the currents. As much as I want to unravel the mystery of time, I _will_ not risk my dear friend to satisfy my own curiosities.." 

            "'Without my knowledge or consent, Destin performed the experiment. He was somehow able to gather a dozen wizards to aid him. Unfortunately, he could not control the immense magical energies that surged through him. Instead, the energies consumed him. The only thing that was left was the time device he had designed, which was brought to my home. Looking at it now, it seems harmless. Who would have thought that a small hourglass would be the key to my friend's undoing. I should never have let Destin build this. this. time turner!'" Merlin closed the book, gently. 

            "It is a tragic tale," He said sadly, taking off his spectacles. "But I believe that what Theoden had theorized was the very thing that happened to you. Your description of the magic Voldemort and the 'Death Eaters' used seem to require a good deal of pure magical energy. Since magic over life and death is usually quite draining. My guess is that the combination of all those spells infused you with enough energy to propel you through the time stream for more than a few hours. I, however, am not sure how that amount of energy was enough to travel millennia from your own time."  

            "I don't really know," said Harry, quietly. "I remember that moment, _wishing_ that I was away from there, that I would get another chance. I guess I got it, huh? So, that's it then. All I have to do is to get some wizards to shoot spells at me, and I'll be home in no time, right?"

            Merlin shook his head. "Did you not listen to Theoden's tale? It is very, very dangerous to attempt to travel through time. You were lucky to have survived your last trip through time. Also, there must be a reason Theoden and Destin never tried to travel forwards in time at an accelerated rate. I am afraid that you must remain."

            "NO!" Harry yelled, jumping up out of his seat. He ran unseeing out of the library. He did not feel the moistness of his eyes. He did not taste the salty tears that found their way to his mouth. He did not notice the momentary look of defeat on his mentor's face. And, he certainly did not notice the normally closed, heavy double doors of the library pushed open by a strong gust of wind. All Harry could think of was the further loss that Voldemort had caused in his life.

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            "Sometimes I need to keep my mouth shut," Merlin said to himself. "Emotional teenagers!" 

            What Merlin did not admit to himself was the fact that he was more than a little bit hurt by Harry's outburst. While Merlin did hope to find some way to get Harry back to his own time, the boy had slowly started growing on the older wizard. Merlin had hoped, in the back of his mind, that Harry would not mind staying with him. Harry was in many ways like Arthur: brave, honorable, and quite mule-headed at times; regardless, Merlin thought of them like the sons he never had.

            "I should not have left Arthur," growled Merlin to nobody in particular. "He was not ready. I should have prepared him better. My mistake _will_ not be allowed to occur again." 

            The wizened wizard got up from his chair with a huff, looking at that particular moment drained of life. He slowly walked to the door thinking, "I cannot let Harry do something foolhardy, which I know he will do. And yet, I cannot forbid him, since that will only drive him away. I can only prepare him, and hope that in time, my student will make the right choices." 

            Closing his eyes, and letting the unshed tears remain as such, Merlin made his way to the kitchens, mumbling "I need a drink." 

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To Harry, bystanders were only blurs, light came in long fuzzy streaks, and the breeze turned into a continuous sting. The heavy thud of his boots sheered off small chips from the cobblestone road. He was panting, there was a dull ache in his side, but Harry did not care. He continued to run. He lost track of the time that he had been running. 

He tried to tell himself that it was all a lie; that Merlin just wanted to keep him here; that returning home wouldn't be dangerous. He tried to tell himself these things, but he couldn't bring himself to believe it. Merlin had taken him in, shown him ways of magic he could only dream about, and yet here he was, trying to blame his mentor. Harry knew that Merlin trusted him, much more so than Dumbledore ever would, and that alone would have endeared the older wizard to him. It was so much more though. Merlin truly cared about him, not about the 'Boy Who Lived', but about _him_, Harry Potter. He suspected, otherwise, Merlin would not have pushed Harry so hard. Harry felt ashamed for his thoughts, for doubting his master. It was no wonder that Merlin was to be the greatest Wizard that ever lived. 

Harry still felt anger, but he felt despair, most of all. "_That's all I ever feel isn't it?_" Harry thought to himself. "_Despair, guilt, sadness, fear._" 

            Thoughts of his friends came forcefully. Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Neville, Ginny. possible scenarios of what would happen to them if Voldemort took over filled his imagination. He was already responsible for Cedric and Sirius's deaths; he could not bear to leave his other friends to the same fate. He was stuck here, in the far past, though. It frustrated Harry to no end being so helpless, this inaction was unbearable. 

            "_I guess I have no choice,"_ Harry quietly thought. "_I have to make the best of this, and hope that somehow 'whatever-his-name-was' was wrong._" 

            As the logical side of his brain began to exert itself, Harry's physical side decided to shut down. His knees gave way, and he collapsed in a heap on the hard, rough, stone surface. When Harry was able to bring his now bruised body to a somewhat sitting position, he noticed that he did not recognize the part of the city that he was in. The normally light city was covered in darkness. Large buildings served to hide much of the moonlight, with inactive torches standing more like specters than a guiding light. Harry briefly wondered if he were about to be the subject of an attack. 

            He quickly forced himself to get to his feet, and try to head in the direction opposite to that which he was facing. Every step was painful, sending a jolt of needles into his legs, but he moved on regardless. Without warning, he bumped into something and went sprawling to the ground, again! 

            "Ow," a musical and decidedly female voice said. "Watch where you are going next time." 

            Harry got up, dusted himself off, and extended his hand to the girl. "I beg your pardon, lady." 

            He could not see very well in the darkness, so he concentrated on conjuring up a circle of light to allow them to see. "Now why didn't I think of that earlier," he muttered quietly to himself. "I _am_ a wizard."

            "Now look here, I do not know where you get off running into people at night." she exclaimed before looking up. When she saw Harry her eyes got wide, saying "Oh.."

            At the sight of her face, Harry no longer felt any pain or sadness. She looked like Harry's own personal angel. Garbed in a sleeveless white gown, with only a thin amethyst silk wrap covering her delicate shoulders, Allison was definitely the most beautiful girl Harry had ever seen. Her gown had a neckline that was low enough to be considered daring, but high enough to be classy. Small sparkling gems decorated the hem of her gown, which kept the bottom of her dress weighted down, and her feet hidden. Flowers were arranged in her long brown hair, giving her a very natural look, and accentuating her already sparkling eyes. 

            "Harry, right?" she spoke hesitantly, shaking Harry out of his thoughts. 

            "Y-yes that's right." He stuttered, knowing he had to work on his 'talking to girls' skills. "I'm sorry for bumping into you, it was all my fault." 

            "No, that's quite alright," Allison assured him with a smile. "I'm glad I ran into you. I am surprised, though, that you were not at the ball tonight." 

            "Ball?" Harry asked with a quizzical expression on his face.

            "The ball that was held for the students, to welcome in the new term."

            "I don't dance?" responded Harry, hoping that he wasn't making an ass out of himself. 

            Allison laughed. To Harry's ears, her laughter sounded like music. "We can remedy that problem. If you would like?" she asked Harry, slightly biting her lower lip, and with a hopeful expression on her face. 

            Before he could answer, an arm snaked around Allison's shoulders. The arm was connected to a tall blonde boy, who looked to be around Harry's age. He was wearing a white ruffled dress shirt, with soft grey pants, and expensive looking leather boots. For some reason, Harry was strongly reminded of Draco Malfoy. Of course, it could be the arrogant smirk or the fact that the 'boy' did not look like he had done a day's worth of hard work in his life that made Harry dislike him. 

            "Ali, my love," said the other boy, leaning close to Allison. "I do not understand why you left so quickly, we were just starting to have fun." 

            She pushed him away shouting, "_I_ was not having fun. I have already told you to LEAVE ME ALONE!" 

            Allison grabbed Harry by the arm. She asked, with pleading eyes, "Walk me home, please?" 

            Harry nodded. He looked back to make sure that the other boy wasn't following, but was only met with a dumbstruck expression, which was quickly turning into a hostile glare. 

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            After they had been walking for a bit, with Harry checking every so often to make sure he wasn't stuck from behind with a 'stray' spell, he was beginning to enjoy talking to the girl who was walking arm in arm with him. She was good company, funny, nice, and did he mention very pretty? 

            Finally he decided to ask, "Who was that back there?" 

            He looked over and found Allison looking uncomfortable, so he quickly added "Don't worry, you don't have to answer. None of my business right?" 

            At this, she sighed and softly said "His name is Korvin Grece, Kor for short. He likes me, or should I say, he wants me as another conquest. He thinks he's the most powerful mage in all of Norhaven since he is also a fourth level student in battle magic. Also he thinks he can do whatever and have whatever he wants since his father is the second magus." 

            "Oh no," she exclaimed, putting her hand to her mouth worriedly. "I hope I didn't get you into any trouble. I am so sorry for involving you in this." 

            "It's fine. I'm not scared. I've dealt with people like him before," said Harry. 

            She gave him a smile, which was reflected in her eyes. They walked a little bit further, and stopped in front of a large brass gate. "Well, this is home. I thank you, kind sir, for walking me home." She said before standing on her toes, and giving Harry a quick peck on the cheek. 

            Allison hurriedly walked onto the lane behind the brass gate. As Harry turned to leave, she quickly shouted, "And don't forget, dancing lessons!" Before he saw her go through her doorway, into her house. 

             "Yeah, dancing," Harry said softly, walking back to the house with a goofy smile on his face, and some newfound hope. 

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A/N: Ok, before I get a million reviews saying this: Don't worry; I am by no means turning this into a romance novel. For those of you who don't like romance, stick around, things will start getting interesting. Besides, Harry's 16, if you have been 16 before, you know what it's like to have hormones! Thanks to all those who reviewed, it was you guys who made me push to get this out. 

Thanks again to Sean, who is the most excellent beta reader! 

**Blip-Dragon: ** Time travel is dangerous; it's not something to be played around with. Otherwise, Harry could just stop Voldemort from rising again, or stop Sirius from dying. I'll soon introduce more of the paradox thing, just keep this in mind: time always moves, whether you are in it or not. Others will still be in that time, progressing forwards, while he has gone to the past. Then again, you could use Descartes' viewpoint of "I think, therefore I am" to justify the future not proceeding, since Harry's universe is in the past. but that's a lot of philosophy.  

**Haplo****: **Harry wasn't exactly thinking straight at the time, so he didn't put two and two together about the time turner. Don't worry, eventually he might. 


	12. A Day In the Life of

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, though this plot line is mine. 

A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates. No, I'm still alive and kicking =) School has been hectic for the past few weeks. To make up for my absence, I give you a longer chapter.  

Chapter 12: A day in the life of…

            Harry was bored. No, he was _really _bored. He could barely keep his eyes open. Looking around the room, he could tell that the other students felt the same way. Looking in every direction, Harry could make out heads resting on some surface. He watched the students seated in the front with some small amusement. They were desperately trying to sleep without being caught, since they didn't come early enough to grab a seat further back. Of course, the professor just droned on, either oblivious to the sleeping students, or uncaring. Harry was sitting in the middle of the auditorium, his head tilted at an angle, eyes opening and closing. This class was as dull as _History of Magic_, but somehow Harry thought that _Military Tactics_ promised to be a much more interesting subject. He was quite wrong.

            Finally giving up on his efforts to stay awake, Harry closed his eyes and just thought about what had been happening recently. It had been three weeks since he started at the Academy, three weeks of monotony, and three weeks that he had not been able to talk to Allison. She seemed to be avoiding him since the night that he brought her home. Every time he would pass her in the halls, she would lower her head, refusing to meet his eyes. She even stopped saying hi to Willium, when he was with Harry. 

He gave out an inaudible sigh, "I'll never understand women." 

Of course, Harry had not had the proper time to investigate why Allison had been shying away recently. His training in all aspects of combat, both magical and physical, was occupying his hours of wakefulness. With only a tendril of thought, he could control the majority of spells that he had learned in his first and second years at Hogwarts. Harry may have noticed improvement, but Merlin still chastised him for using his hands in helping him cast higher level spells. Even though he was quick to master casting without a focus, Harry had hit what one would call a plateau in his magical learning. His control of mental magic had increased markedly since he started, but lately his rate of progress had decreased by quite a bit. Harry wondered if he had finally reached a stopping point in his magical abilities, but Merlin was adamant that the momentary lapse in progress was caused by Harry's inability to concentrate on 'anything but women'. 

A smile crept over Harry's lips as he remembered a particular session…

Merlin had been trying to teach him how to form a shield with only his mind. Then again, Harry did not have a choice in the matter. After several unsuccessful attempts, where Harry used his hands to shape the surrounding magical energies, a frustrated Merlin trapped Harry in stone from the neck down. 

Merlin gave Harry a sly grin. "Now, this should add some incentive for you to create a shield."

The next thing Harry knew, assorted fruits began to assault him from all sides. 

"Hey! That's not fair," complained Harry, using his thoughts to repel a particularly large looking apple. However, he completely missed the pomegranate that splattered into the back of his head. 

"Well, most fights are not fair either. Better conjure that shield before you turn into a fruit cocktail," called Merlin, levitating another orange in preparation to strike. 

Harry desperately tried to ignore the pomegranate juice dripping off of his hair and the accompanying uncomfortable sticky sensations that it brought. He closed his eyes, and cleared his mind, paying no heed to the amount of time that passed. In the 'void', Harry slowly coaxed out the magical energies from the surrounding area. He concentrated on gathering the energy into a small solid ball, and then pictured that ball expanding like a balloon, finally encompassing Harry within its center. 

He opened his eyes just in time to see the incoming barrage of two oranges and a banana deflected away by a slightly shimmering thin blue film of energy. Harry smiled. "I did it." 

Merlin also smiled, preparing another volley. "That you did lad. I wonder what that girl of yours would say?" The shield suddenly faltered, letting in half of a watermelon, which was aimed directly at Harry's head. 

The stone holding Harry swiftly faded back into nothingness, and Harry was able to use his hands and wipe the fruit out of his eyes. Merlin handed him a towel, while trying to unsuccessfully stifle his laughter. "Clean yourself up as much as you can, and then go upstairs to wash up."

"It was much harder to form the magic around me for this spell, and even harder to hold it in place. Do you think that maybe I've finally reached my limit?" Harry asked, as they were riding the lift back to the surface.

Merlin chuckled. "No my young apprentice, a lapse in concentration is hardly a call for questioning your abilities. You are very powerful, I have felt it. Of course you actually have to practice for that power to be utilized to its full potential. I am convinced that _if_ you decide to spend as much time on your studies as you spend thinking about girls, that your abilities could surpass even the first mage in a couple of days. Then again, hormones were probably created by the mage council to keep youngsters like you from becoming quite so powerful." __

Over the last few weeks, Harry was starting to become more accustomed to the fact that he may never return to his own time. Maybe that's why he thought about Allison so much. She let him view the world in a different light. If it wasn't for the duty that the prophecy set forth before him, he may have been able to enjoy his stay. "Why can't I just have a normal life?" Harry thought to himself. "I didn't ask for any of this. I didn't want to be a hero; I don't want to be famous. All I've ever wanted was to be normal, to be like everyone else. If I didn't have to train to become some sort of 'weapon', to learn to fight just to survive, maybe I could actually spend some time with Allison. Then again, I would still be in my own time if not for Voldemort." 

Lost in his own thoughts, Harry did not immediately realize that class had ended. He collected his parchment and quill, and slowly made his way up towards the exit. He was always one of the last students to leave, and one of the first students to arrive. After so many weeks, he still did not have many friends. In fact, he only had one friend: Willium. All the other students studying Battle Magics were rich, arrogant, and conniving. He observed that most of them would change 'friends' at least four times a day. There were constant struggles for power. Each student was jockeying for position in the overall hierarchy, but the advantages of the constant backstabbing continued to elude him. It was a scary to think that all battle mages were the spitting image of Malfoy.

Harry felt a light tap on his right shoulder. He had to fight down his instincts, and remember that an attacker would not be tapping him on the shoulder, especially not with such a 'feminine' touch. He slowly turned around, and what he saw brought a smile to his face. Or more precisely, who he saw. 

Allison was standing behind him dressed in the green robes of a healer-student, wearing the most beautiful smile Harry had ever seen. 

"Hey," she said. "I saw you passing in the halls, and I just wanted to say hello."

Harry smiled. "I'm really sorry that I haven't talked to you sooner, these lessons are pretty taxing, though I have been thinking about you a lot." Realizing what he just said, red started to creep up his face. 

Allison, also blushing, said, "I've thought about you too. I was worried that you were avoiding me." 

Looking into her brown eyes, Harry began to lose himself, and did not realize that he was vocalizing his thoughts. "No, no… I like you too much to want to avoid you." 

Harry clamped a hand over his mouth, and Allison gave a small giggle in response. "Why Harry Potter, do you fancy me?" 

Becoming bolder, Harry answered, "Depends." 

Allison gave him a questioning look, and was slightly biting her bottom lip. "On?"

"It depends on if you'll accompany me to dinner tonight." 

He had no chance to brace himself before Allison launched herself towards Harry, and happily wrapped her arms around him. Whispering into her ear, he asked "So is this a 'yes'?" 

She laughed. "Of course." 

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            A huge grin, from ear to ear, was plastered on Harry's face as he entered the demonstration auditorium for his final class of the day, _Greater Magics_. 

            "Potter, you are late," called the professor, standing at the podium. "This means you have graciously volunteered to demonstrate your flame wall to the class." 

            Harry could only nod, as he reluctantly made his way to the front of the cavernous room. It was not that the class was boring like _Tactics_, or insufferable like potions with Snape. In fact, the course was the type he would usually like. There was actually very little theoretical learning involved. Instead, the class consisted of mostly practical, hands-on learning. Perfect for Harry, except for one small problem: he couldn't perform the magic that was taught. Well, that wasn't completely correct, he could cast most of the taught magic, but the results were mediocre at best. Thus far, his only success had been producing a barrier of ice. Though he did think it was strange that others who usually did so well were having trouble with this relatively simple task. He quickly ended his musing, as he entered the front area. Behind him, a shimmering barrier sprang to life, which would protect the watching students from any stray spells. 

            The only one who remained with the student was the instructor. Harry looked over at Mage Denius, and received a nod in return. Denius was standing in a relaxed pose to the left of Harry. He was attired as all full Battle Mages were: black shirt, black pants, calf high black boots, and a black with silver trim surcoat. Regardless of his age, the instructor of _Greater Magics_ had the look of a battle-hardened veteran. He had a stocky build, and was about five feet five inches tall. Pepper hair covered his head, and lined his square jaw, coming to end on his chin as a well trimmed beard. Denius also possessed grey eyes that strongly reminded Harry of Mad-Eye Moody's magical replacements. It seemed as if he could catch anyone, doing anything, anywhere, at anytime.  

            Harry raised his hands in front of him, using both mind and body to shape the image. He pictured the marble ground in front of him heating up. In his mind, he saw that the heat was so intense that the marble could no longer contain it, and jets of flame rose up. They rose so high, that the pillar of flames could almost touch the heavens. He then allowed the magic to meld with that image. Much to his dismay, once the magic was added, only a small flame, which was less than a finger's length, appeared. Harry didn't understand why he could not cast most greater spells correctly; it was almost as if his magic refused to respond to these images. 

He heard snickers from the audience, and words like 'loser' being used. Harry was used to these remarks, however, and paid them no heed. What bothered him most were his unsuccessful attempts in an aspect of magic. He did not consider himself the smartest or most powerful wizard. But until now, he had never failed to correctly perform a piece of magic. "I may have to get used to this," he thought to himself. 

Regarding Harry's dismal performance, Denius merely replied, "Again."

Determined not to fail this time, Harry brought in as much magic as he could hold. At the point where he felt he would burst, he gathered even more magic, pushing his limits further. He was fiercely concentrating on having the energies burst from the ground, creating an impenetrable wall. Harry, however, was so engaged, that he overlooked forming the image of a flame wall in his mind, before he released the energy to carry out his commands. 

All hell broke loose. The ground began to shake, the marble floor was cracking, and small ridges and fissures appeared about ten feet in front of Harry. Bolts of energy came fast and furious from the ground, sending debris flying everywhere. There was so much power that Harry could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The intense brightness blinded students who had been watching, while the deafening crackle of air being superheated caused others to cover their ears fearing a permanent loss of hearing. The bolts melted into a continuous wall of energy, which strained and battled against the heartstone powered protective barrier. The shield could be seen waxing and waning, desperately trying to hold in the power Harry had unleashed. 

Then, suddenly, the onslaught halted, leaving only a ruined floor and shards of marble scattered around the demonstration area. 

Denius slowly rose, brushing the dust off of his jacket. He did not yell, he did not accuse, he did not punish. He raised his right eyebrow and asked in a steady voice, "Potter, what the _hell_ was that?" 

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            Walking along _Guard's Way_, Harry thought about the odd encounter with the Academy's headmaster, Darron Snowforth. When Denius had brought Harry to the Headmaster's office, Snowforth had been absently staring out a window, located in the rear. He made no acknowledgement regarding Harry or Denius's presence. When Denius reported on what had happened, Snowforth merely waved it off, softly muttering "Boys will be boys." The entire time of the exchange, the Headmaster had never looked up, completely oblivious to the world around him. 

            Denius got up, motioning that he and Harry should exit. When they were out of the Headmaster's office, Denius gave Harry an odd look. "That was strange." 

            Smiling Denius continued, "You got lucky. Normally Snowforth is not that forgiving. Be more careful in the future." 

            Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts. He really did not know what had happened earlier in the day. Walking through the passageway into the grounds, he was knocked onto his back without warning. Standing over him was Varnel, who was an intimidating sight with his fangs bared, and eyes glowing red. He snarled, "Watch where you're going." And he stomped off. 

 Varnel was one of the vampires from the outlying township of Triston, which was one of the few places that had peaceful co-habitation between foci-wielders, non-humans, and non-magic users. Normally the tall, dark haired vampire was very friendly, he could always be found around the halls with a smile on his face, and a joke to tell. Unlike most of the vampires here, Varnel was born the child of two vampiric parents. So, he did not grow up with the hard feelings carried by 'turned' vampires, since he had never been anything else. To Harry and others, it was a rare occurrence when Varnel was not smiling. Moreover, it was positively unheard of for him to be so vicious.  

Harry cautiously walked the rest of the way, paying close attention to his surroundings, afraid to anger anymore people today. When Harry entered the training room only Cathal was present. 

"What's going on?" Harry asked, picking up a blunted practice sword. 

"The forces of the non-magic users attacked one of the magical communities to the south." Cathal sighed, "There were no survivors left in Triston. The best part of all this: once the mage council heard about this attack, forces were deployed to protect the _merchant caravans_. Not to increase the defense of the other cities, not to protect the denizens of the area, but to BLOODY continue to make those bastards richer!" 

Harry raised his sword, in a ready stance. "Aren't the mages worried that they'll be attacked too?" 

Cathal gave a sardonic laugh. "The mages will only begin to worry when the problem comes to their doorstep. But do not doubt that they will. These 'eradicators' of magic, or Soldiers of Light, as they call themselves, will stop at nothing short of the destruction of the magical world. Enough talk, I need a good fight." He too raised his sword. 

The two met with a clashing of steel in the middle of the arena. Harry was the first to push off, slashing quickly at Cathal's left side. His attack was parried by a vertical block from his opponent. Before Harry could react, Cathal had pushed his larger frame against Harry, pinning the blades between them. Harry could not stop Cathal's elbow from connecting with his face. Harry thought fast, and moved his foot behind his rival's heel and tripped him. Using the flat of his blade, Harry knocked Cathal's sword out of his hand, sending it flying. 

He slowly approached his 'fallen' opponent, and held the tip of his sword to Cathal's throat. "I believe I've won." 

The elf only smiled, saying "Maybe, maybe not." Before scissoring his legs, causing Harry to temporarily lose his balance. Cathal moved like greased lightning. He jumped off the ground and slammed the heel of his foot into Harry's mid-section, causing Harry to fall flat on his back. Harry was pinned to the ground by Cathal's knee, as the blunted edge of his sword was brought to rest against throat. 

"Never be overconfident," Cathal warned, before getting off of Harry. "Although, I will admit that you are improving." 

"What were those last techniques that you used to disarm me?" 

Cathal looked sheepish, "Well, I know you are improving since I had to use some Elven unarmed techniques to disarm you. Against another opponent, you probably would have already won. It was a little unfair." 

"It wasn't unfair, battles are hardly fair," Harry spoke knowingly. "I guess I finally realized that just now. Can you teach me though?" 

Looking thoughtful, Cathal spoke carefully. "These techniques, known to us as _Cam'dagora_, were developed after the enslavement in order to rid us of the mages. We were therefore forbidden to teach such techniques to those who subjugated us, nor their descendants. However, the sword techniques Cassius and I have been teaching you use some of the unarmed component to augment the techniques. So, I technically wouldn't be violating the rules by showing you how to perform the forms without the aid of a weapon, since I wouldn't be teaching you unarmed Elven combat if you somehow already knew them, right?" 

Harry smiled, "When do we get started?" 

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            He was sweating, he had butterflies in his stomach, and he was a nervous wreck. Harry thought to himself, "I've been on dates before. Like with Cho. Then again I think I felt the same way that time too."__

            Harry was dressed in a dark green shirt, and black pants. He had tried to do something to his hair, but to no avail. Even though it had grown somewhat, to about midway on his neck, his black mop of hair was still going to be untamable for some time. The sword training had taken its toll on him; he was more a fit young man than a skinny boy. Combined with clothes that actually fit, Harry got quite a few admiring looks from the female population at Norhaven. Nevertheless, he failed to notice his surroundings, as he was too worried to think about anything else. 

            Allison was waiting for him as he approached the gates of her house. Harry didn't think he had ever seen a more beautiful sight. She was wearing a light, purple silk dress. Two thin wisps of silk held the fabric on her lithe frame, and exposed a good deal of her creamy shoulders to the evening air. 

            Extending his arm in a gentlemanly manner, Harry asked, "Shall we?" 

            She smiled and took his proffered arm. 

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Dinner was nice and uneventful. They dined at a small but classy restaurant, overlooking one of the waterfalls near the edge of town. Harry found Allison to be very good company, she always had a smile on her face and made him laugh. He never had to wonder if she only liked him because of his fame or fortune, as he did in his own time. Here, he could just be himself, and not worry about her possessing other motives for liking him. 

They were taking their time returning to Allison's house, enjoying the crisp night air, and the stars shining brightly overhead. A surprise awaited them, outside the gates of Allison's residence. 

Korvin Grece was standing by the gates, with his arms crossed, leaning against the right gate. "Coming in early I see, much earlier than I used to take her home. Is she not giving you the same kind of privileges she used to give me? Oh! By the look on your face Potter, I'm guessing not." 

He turned to Allison and leered, "Why don't you let a real man take you out? When you get tired of Potter here, let me know, and I _might_ be able to make time for you." 

She just turned to Harry, saying "I had a great time. I'll talk to you later?" 

He could only nod. She gave him a quick but soft kiss which left Harry's lips tingling, before she brushed past Kor and went into her house. 

Kor looked at Harry in disbelief, becoming so angry at this humiliation that he was red in the face. "Potter. Duel. Now." 

"Wizarding duels are illegal." 

"I don't know what backwater place you came from," Korvin sneered. "But here, we Magi resolve our differences by dueling. That is of course if you can even call yourself a magic-user. I've seen you in class, you're pitiful." 

Harry was not quick to lose his temper to people like Korvin Grece, but this slap in the face was just one too much for the day. "I accept your challenge." 

Kor smirked, and immediately went on the offensive launching a fireball at Harry. Immediately bringing his mind to a calm and empty state, he formed a shield around himself. Flames sheeted around Harry as the ball of fire impacted with the barrier. He tried to summon a retaliatory attack, but to no avail. 

"At least I'll die knowing my shield finally worked," Harry thought to himself, as more fireballs were thrown at him. 

He was getting tired, and more frustrated, as seconds passed. Finally, he did something that he would later think of as pure idiocy. He lowered his shields, as one of Kor's fireballs was heading towards him. He concentrated hard on 'seeing' the magic, the energies that lay behind the summoned flames. 

"_If only I can… There!"_ Harry was able to divert the streams of magic, and thus the fire, around himself. He began to absorb the energy Kor threw at him, and added his own. He pushed past even the amount of power he had held earlier today. He could almost taste the magic, it was so potent. A sweet, yet somehow acrid taste, like when a child eats too many sweets. He could feel the magic crackling around him, yet he still continued to summon more power. He was not just upset, he was furious! When he released the magic, it had no real focus, except that he wanted to _hurt_ Kor. Wind began to whip around them, untamed and savage, as Harry began to channel. The air currents around them started moving faster and faster, blowing dust everywhere, stinging their eyes. And yet, Harry could 'see' clearer than he ever had before. He felt the wind act like blades, tearing at Kor, tearing his clothes, and some of his skin. Kor had a frightened look in his eyes, and Harry began enjoying it. 

He began to enjoy the power he had over Kor, images began to surface in his mind: of forcing Kor down to beg for his life, of destroying the mages, and of subjugating the non-magic users for their part in destroying Trenton. He stopped, as another image entered, unbidden. He was in the Chamber of Secrets, looking at a young man who looked similar to him, but this person had chosen the path of darkness, this person had murdered his parents, and this person was who he would become if he did not stop this NOW!

Harry quickly released the magical energies that he had held, and Kor landed onto the ground, unable to stand any longer. A squad of city sentinels surrounded Harry. In response to their questioning gazes he simply replied, "Mage duel." 

His answer seemed to satisfy the commanding officer. The sentinels formed up again in a double column continuing their patrol, leaving Harry and a wounded Kor. Korvin, using the gate for support, pulled himself to his feet. He looked at Harry, frightened but defiant, rasping, "This isn't over Potter, not by a long shot." 

Slowly walking home, Harry kept repeating to himself, "I am not like Voldemort, I am not like Voldemort." 

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A/N: Thanks for bearing with me everyone for the lack of updates. Thank my beta-reader Sean for constantly reminding me to write the next chapter =) And of course thanks to all my reviewers, who give me a reason to keep writing! 

**Mike-Potter 2002**: Probably not going to use the Sorcerer's Stone, but I will explain the aging thing soon. 

**Blip-Dragon**: Hehe, I'm on spring break, so waay too much philosophy for me. 

**Gallandro-83**: Don't worry, not out of ideas, just some time issues about writing! Oh, and I'm thinking of how to incorporate early ideas about what they do in early wizarding societies, but I still have to do some more historical research to see what they did during that time in 'Muggle' England for fun. 

**Haplo111: **Merlin's like a father… they don't always think about what 'they' did in the past. 

Once again, thanks Sean! 


	13. Storm Wizard

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, but if JK would like to give me the rights to that empire, I'd be glad to take it!

A/N: Sorry for the long wait everyone, finals and bad luck with women have been taking up a good deal of my time in the past few months.

Chapter 13: Storm Wizard

            Merlin was sitting in the library, trying to create a reproducible spell using incantations that would allow the user to make an exact copy of a text. Such a spell would reduce the amount of work and time that Merlin was spending practicing his craft. He had gotten the book to reproduce, but the even numbered pages had the strange tendency to be composed of inkblots.

            He was about to try to cast a slightly varied version of the spell, when suddenly all the parchment that he had been working with began to fly around the room. Mist filled every corner of the vast library, icicles were starting to form on the ceiling, and Merlin could feel the painful stinging of the icy wind on his skin. He looked around the room, trying to find the source of the dangerous weather change.

            What Merlin saw shocked him. His young charge was floating 3 feet off the ground, wind whipping through his already unruly hair, and his eyes were glowing a pale reddish-gold.

            "HARRY", Merlin yelled. No response.

            He tried to walk closer to Harry, but was sent flying backwards by a strong gust of wind. Deepening his connection to the magic around him, he sensed a slight change in the surrounding energy levels. Hastily raising a shield of energy, Merlin was just barely able to deflect and shatter Harry's barrage of ice spikes.

            "Damn," Merlin thought. "Somehow Harry sees me as a threat. I'm not sure I can stop, but even if I could, would I be able to do so without hurting him?"

            A sudden large increase in magical energies alerted Merlin of another attack. He jumped away to his left, narrowly avoiding a bolt of lightning, which ended up obliterating the stuffed chair behind him.

            "This has to end." Merlin decided. He quickly calmed his mind, paying no attention to his rising anxiety. He was easily able to locate Harry's magical, as it was like a beacon of light in an otherwise dim world. Merlin called the magic to him, using it to enter his student's mind.

            In Harry's psyche, Merlin found himself on a bleak landscape, dull grey and barren. There was enough illumination for Merlin to see about five feet ahead of himself, but not much else. On top of that, a thick fog hovered above the ground, lowering visibility even more. Sound, however, traveled as well as it normally did, if not slightly better. Two voices could be heard above the silence, one belonged to Harry, but the other voice Merlin had never heard before. The other voice was low, and sounded similar to a snake's hissing.

"Come join me Harry," said the other voice. "Together we could be powerful, we could destroy all those who stand in our way."

"Never," retorted a defiant Harry. "I will never become like you Tom"

"Ah, calling me Tom or any other name will not make a difference. In any case, you _will_ join me."

Merlin began to move towards the voices, hoping that he would be able to reach Harry and get both of them out of this place.

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            Harry was angry, but he was not angry at the arrogant Korvin Grece. He was angry at himself. He had lost complete control over his emotions, and did to Korvin what he wanted to do in the deepest recesses of his mind. Harry had wanted to make Korvin bow down and grovel for his life. Harry was terrified with the power he had held over his adversary, but even more frightening was his enjoyment of hurting the other boy.

            While walking back to his house, Harry kept up such a train of thought. His mood began to darken, becoming more melancholy. As he walked, he began to withdraw inwards. Harry started to hear a faint laughter, which grew louder, and more sinister with every step.

            "Didn't it feel good to hurt the arrogant fool," whispered the unseen voice. "You enjoyed it. You enjoyed that feeling of power, that feeling of control, that _dominance_."

"No," responded Harry to the voice. "It was wrong."

"But why was it wrong?" The voice was becoming more pronounced.

"Power shouldn't be used in that way."

"Who defines the boundaries for which power should or shouldn't be used," laughed the voice. "The un-talented, the stupid, the weak? Or you?"

"The good define the boundaries," said Harry, sure of the answer.

"What makes these people good? What makes lovers of the weak good?" The faint lines of a face began to form in front of Harry.

"These people are good because they uphold justice." Power began to gather around Harry, without his conscious thought.

"Justice is an excuse for those who don't deserve to exist to continue to remain in existence." Even though the head was partially covered by a black cloak, Harry could now see the face clearly: white skin, small mouth, and… red eyes.

The world around Harry melted into darkness as his powers lifted himself into the air.

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Harry found himself standing on rocky surface. In this place, there was no sky, there was no light, and there was no hope.

As Harry conjured lights into existence around him, he found the face that had appeared before him standing about 10 feet directly in front of him. It was wearing a black cloak, which covered it from head to toe, leaving only the face bare. The red eyes glowed in the darkness.

"Hello Harry," it said.

"Hello Voldemort," replied Harry moving into immediate action. In quick succession, he threw four stunners, and a disarming spell from the palms of his hands.

Even though the cloaked figure didn't move, the spells missed him on both sides.

"My turn," the figure said, before sending a wave of deadly energy towards Harry.

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It seemed like an eternity since the battle started. His muscles were sore from the running, jumping, and rolling. He found that the effort of channeling magic was proving to be more difficult by the minute. __

Harry had been trading spells with the cloaked figure for hours now, he was tired. He had used spells learned in Hogwarts, in the DA, spells from Merlin, and spells that he had somehow made up himself, but to no avail. The cloaked figure was able to dodge everything, from a stunning spell to a tidal wave. Harry didn't know how much longer he could last.

"I tire of this," said the figure. With a wave of his hand, Harry was bound in stone, and somehow cut off from his magic.

"What do you want," shouted Harry, almost defeated and desperately trying to call on his magic.

"I want you. I have shown you that your efforts in trying to defeat me are futile. Instead, I want you to come join me Harry. Together we could be powerful, we could destroy all those who stand in our way."

"Never," said Harry, not really believing his own declaration. "I will never become like you Tom."

"Ah, calling me Tom or any other name will not make a difference. In any case, you _will_ join me… or you will perish" The ominous figure raised its hand summoning a crackling green ball of energy.

"How did you get here Tom?" asked Harry, hoping to stall for time. 

"Simple, I came with you. I am always with you," laughed the figure. "I _am_ you." The figure pulled back the hood of its cloak, and revealed a mop of messy shoulder-length black hair, with a lighting bolt scar partially hidden under the fringes.

"You can't be. I can't be…" stuttered Harry in disbelief.

"I am. I am what you are becoming. I am power."

"Ah, but you are not power," said a strangely familiar voice from behind Harry. "Lack of inhibitions, lack of control, and a lack of morals do not constitute power. True power comes from the heart"

"You really believe that being so called 'good' is supposed to make you powerful?" barked the alternate Harry, laughing. "I'll tell you what being 'good' does to you. It makes you weak."

"No," said Harry, quietly, coming to a realization. "It makes you stronger. Generosity is more powerful than greed. Love more powerful than hate." Harry began to glow, dissolving the surrounding stone imprisoning him.

"Good will always triumph over evil," stated Harry. "I know where I stand. Where I must stand. I stand with the light."

"So be it," shouted the alternate Harry. "But you will never be rid of me, and one day I will come again."

The world dissolved again, and Harry found himself lying amidst a pile of books which were strewn about the room due to his tempest. Merlin stuck out a hand, helping Harry stand then gave him a look that clearly meant 'We need to talk.'

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"… and that's when I found myself on top of the books in the library," said Harry. He had been explaining to Merlin, the events that had occurred that night: the date, the duel, and the strange trip into his own mind. He was still a little unnerved by the revelation that the dark barren place was his psyche.

"So who was the other me then, was it Voldemort?" asked Harry.

"I do not believe so Harry." Merlin rested his chin on top of his fists. "I think that the alternate you was a manifestation of your despair, your fear, and your anger. Few have such manifestations of their emotions, but it seems to be the case here."

"So how can I destroy it, before it takes over?"

"You cannot. If you destroy that manifestation, you will destroy yourself. It is a part of you, just as the other voice that you described is also a part of you. Emotions are a very interesting thing; some can bring about the greatest good, but some can also bring about the greatest evil. You cannot, however, destroy emotions in favor of others. To do so would make you no longer human."

"So, you're saying that I have to live with it, and hope the evil side doesn't decide to take over." said Harry.

"No." answered Merlin, wishing for some strong wine right about now. "I am saying that you should strike a balance within yourself, by not letting one emotion dominate the other. But not by eradicating some of your emotions."

"I see. I think."

"Think about it some more when you have calmed down. But I am curious about the magic you were using earlier." Merlin grinned. "You would not have happened to have encountered some wild wind nymphs have you? Since it has been written in certain legends that they bestow their 'friends' temporarily with certain powers, I was just curious."

Harry was blushing furiously, knowing full well his master's implication. "No, I didn't meet any wind nymphs."

            "In that case, many things have begun to make sense. Remember when you asked me why you were unable to perform most of the techniques taught in your _Greater Magics_ class?"

            "Yeah. But what do these powers have to do with me being a poor student?"

            "Have you ever wondered why most of the greater spells taught have to do with fire?" Merlin asked. "Or why you, out of everyone else, have so much difficulty performing such spells."

            "I don't know," Harry answered, thinking of past lessons. "I guess I just thought I was bad at the magic they taught at the academy."

            "Harry, all wizards have a propensity for certain elements in magic. Now, such a leaning towards certain elements would not matter in normal foci-casting, but it is much more pronounced when performing any type of foci-less casting. Most wizards have an aptitude towards fire. Rarer are those who are termed earth-wizards or earth-mages. Now, there is one type of talent that comes along once every few millennia, in the form of wizards who can control water, wind, and most importantly, energy." __

            "I've never heard of any storm wizards in my time."

            "Are you sure you have not," asked Merlin, with a smile on his face. "I would think that you have heard of Thor before."

            "Thor," asked Harry, not believing what he had heard. "He's a Norse god, but not a wizard."

            "God?" laughed Merlin, "He was no god. He was one of the fiercest Viking warriors, and an incredibly powerful storm wizard. Often non magic wielders will confuse wizards as gods. With Thor, it was understandable. He stood more than a foot taller than most men, and wielded a giant war hammer. His control over storms caused people to name him 'God of Thunder'. He brought a fleet containing thousands of Vikings, pillaging and plundering, but not conquering. The Norse were looking for food and slaves, but never to rule the area. They were finally driven off by the founding mages of Norhaven. Thor was killed, though many of the Vikings still believe that he looks down upon us from Asgard." __

            "I'm not sure how to deal with this kind of power," sighed Harry. "I'm a bit scared of what I may do again."

            Before Merlin could answer, chimes announced that there were visitors waiting at the front door. Merlin and Harry walked to the door and after Krayfar had opened the door, Harry felt his blood run cold. Standing outside the door were six armed city sentinels, one battle mage, and Darius Grece, the second Mage.

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A/N: Sorry for not writing, things just have been really tough on me in the past few weeks. I want to thank everyone who's been waiting for this story these last months, and those of you who have let me know that you are still interested. Things should begin to get more exciting, but the chapters may take longer due to summer session starting, and much LSAT cramming. So, my apologies to everyone in advance.

Special thanks to Sean for still beta-ing even though he just graduated. And congratulations!

**Dead feather: **I wouldn't worry about Allison being turned into a Mary Sue, primarily because I'm a guy. And I'll consider changing how I write his thoughts in a different fashion, although in literature thoughts are often written in quotations.


	14. Exile

Chapter 14: Exile

"Harry Potter," one of the city sentinels drawled. "You are under arrest."

Harry stood there stunned, unable to say anything. Luckily Merlin spoke up. "What are the charges?"

"Attempted murder of a Norhaven citizen."

"WHAT?" Harry exclaimed, finally able to find his voice. He was about to dispute the charges and explain that it was a mage duel, but Merlin put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Do you have any evidence to support your claim?" Merlin calmly asked.

Pushing the guards aside, the second mage furiously yelled, "Do _not_ play games with me Merlin. Your… your apprentice almost killed my son. He will be brought to justice!"

"And by justice, you mean retribution?"

"Do not presume to oppose me," threatened Darius, his face reddening and beginning to froth at the mouth. "The punishment for unauthorized mage duels is death!"

Squeezing Harry's shoulder tighter, in order to keep him from responding, Merlin looked at Darius like a loathsome insect and slowly said, "Then your son must also face the same sentence, for he is also at fault."

Harry didn't think it was possible, but Darius's face became even redder with anger. "Fine," answered the second mage carefully. "The charges against you for dueling are hereby dropped. However, there still remains the fact that your apprentice destroyed more than two city blocks last night."

Darius Grece stood up a little taller, with a gleeful look in his eye, and said, "Harry Potter, for the destruction you have caused, I, Darius Grece, magus of the High Council, find you guilty of crimes against the Norhaven public. You are hereby expelled from the Academy, and exiled from this city until the following spring festival, at which time you will enter the Phoenix Knight Officer training program. At least you can be of some use alive."

With that, the second mage turned, black cloak swirling outwards behind him, and led his entourage away.

"What are we going to do?" asked Harry worriedly.

"You pack," answered Merlin, glaring daggers at Grece's back. "There are some arrangements that I have to make before we leave."

* * *

Harry stood in front of his half-filled bag, sadness written all over his features. _How did I ever get myself into this?_, he thought to himself. _Wait… what about Allison? I won't even be able to say goodbye. This isn't fair; for once my life was going well. Am I just doomed to remain unhappy? For once, I can't even blame Voldemort for my problems. _

He just sighed into his bag, tears welling in his eyes, threatening to spill. Harry didn't know what he was going to do, everything kept changing for the worse. He was transported here against his will from his own time, and when he finally thought he had found happiness with Allison, he was being exiled. But everything that happened paled in comparison with the fight with Korvin.

_What's happening to me? _Harry wondered. _What happened to my magic? I remember tapping my power… I could feel the rest of it when I did… it was immense, like it was an iceberg and I was only touching the tip. And I can feel my abilities continuing to grow. How long can I hold out, before I too am corrupted by such power?_

"NO," he yelled. "I won't give up. I will never succumb"

But a little voice inside his head whispered, "_Oh… but you almost did"_

"Never…" Harry muttered softly, grabbing his bag and cloak, and left the room.

* * *

Harry and Merlin walked along one of the main concourses leading to the grand archways signaling the boundaries of the city in silence. They had packed light, only taking some clothing and provisions. For reasons unknown to Harry, only the minimum of magic was used to enchant the bags to become lighter. Even though the weather in Norhaven was quite warm, the pair both wore thick black cloaks over their clothing, as they would no longer be residing in the magical city for the length of Harry's exile.

Exiting through the ivory gates of Norhaven was easier than when they had first entered. They were quickly passed through, with the gates shutting immediately behind them. With a glance backwards, and a soft sigh, Harry, once again, followed Merlin into the unknown.

They had been walking south for an hour, when they reached a clearing. What awaited the two travelers there was a complete surprise to Harry. Standing in the clearing, were three horses, two chestnut mares, and one black stallion carrying the tall figure of Cathal.

"What are you doing here," asked Harry in disbelief, shaking his head to make sure he wasn't having some sort of adverse effect from the cold.

The elf merely smiled. Merlin said, "This is one of the arrangements I had to make before we left. Since his brother is currently out patrolling the borders of the magically ruled realm, we will only have Cathal to ride with us for our journey. You will continue to learn swordplay as well as _Cam'dagora_ from him, while I will try to impart on you techniques and skills that you will need to survive as a Phoenix Knight."

"This is a lot to take in Merlin," said Harry honestly. "But I'll try my best."

"Good lad," Merlin said, giving Harry a smile. "I also have the feeling that you have never ridden before."

"Um, well, no." answered Harry.

"Ah, 'tis easy Potter. All you do is put your feet in the footholds, and hold on to the reins," said Cathal.

"And how do I get it to go?"

"Like this." And with that, Cathal gave Harry's mount a hearty slap on the rear, causing it to immediately start running.

"I fear we may need to give young Harry riding lessons in addition to everything else," laughed Merlin.

"No," replied Cathal, also laughing. "I think he is doing quite well for himself at the moment. Now, let us catch up before his beginner's luck runs out!"

* * *

Hours later, the group stopped at a small creek to water their horses. Harry had never felt so sore in his life. When he stood, it felt as if his knees would give way.

"It always looked so easy in the movies," Harry grumbled to himself, rubbing his thighs trying to ease the soreness.

"Okay there Harry?" Merlin inquired with a smirk on his face. "We still have a good distance to cover before dark."

Harry grimaced, but was too tired to say anything more.

"Unfortunately I would have liked to train you properly," said Merlin, becoming serious. "But it seems fate has decreed differently. You will continue your normal training with Cathal in the mornings before we begin to ride, and I will focus on teaching you how to survive with our other time. As I said before, you are powerful, but your magic is still untrained, similar to a blind man wielding a club. What we must now do is to make it as deadly as an arrow, and as precise as a needle. Your mental barriers must also be strengthened, so that you will not fall to an attack on your mind."

Harry nodded, and with a resigned sigh, said "If that is the way it must be, I guess I have no choice."

"Then let our first lesson begin. When you become fatigued, draw upon your magic to replenish your spent physical energy. You should never feel tired when in battle; to do so may cost you your life. Now, watch me not with your eyes, but with your senses to watch how the magic is used.

Harry saw, in his mind's eye, the outline of Merlin's body. He saw the tendrils of magic snaking out, gathering energy from the surrounding area. Then Harry saw Merlin's outline start to be suffused by a soft blue glow, which slowly grew in intensity, before dimming.

"With enough practice," Merlin explained, "you should become fast enough to refresh yourself between engagements. Now you try."

Closing his eyes and his mind to outside thought, Harry called his magic to do his bidding. Almost immediately he felt a cleansing of his body, like he had just stood under a waterfall. He felt his tension, soreness, and fatigue ease away. When he opened his eyes, he saw an astonished look on Merlin's face.

"What?" Harry asked, fearing he did something wrong.

"Nothing," replied Merlin quickly. "It is just that I thought you had refreshed yourself in half the time it would have taken to swing a sword. No, it is not possible for any wizard to do that. It must have been my imagination, however. Do you feel better?"

"Yeah," said Harry, astonished. "I feel a lot better."

"Good," cut in Cathal. "Now that both of you are done with your wizardry, we can finally ride."

They all gave a chuckle at that, before mounting their horses.

* * *

A blade whistled dangerously past Harry's head, as he ducked under Cathal's swing. He countered by fainting a downwards slash towards the knees, but changed course midway through to try for a horizontal slash towards the abdomen. Cathal had anticipated Harry's maneuver and was able to block his student's attempt at an attack.

"Nice try." Cathal swung the practice blade at Harry's upper torso, which was quickly blocked. Using the remaining momentum, Cathal kept his arm going past Harry's blade, and tried elbowing him in the face. Harry moved in time to avoid the blow, pushing Cathal's arm past him, and counterattacked by using the pommel of his sword to hit Cathal's temple.

Harry saw Cathal start to move, but not fast enough to completely avoid the blow. Cathal was left with a large purple mark on the left side of his face. Harry then kicked the back of his teacher's leg, bringing Cathal to his knees, which was followed by bringing his blade to his opponent's throat.

"Okay, I give up," said Cathal, surprised. Harry gave him a hand to pull himself up with. "This is the first time I've been bested by you. It seems that you have actually learned something from me."

"Yeah," Harry laughed. "Don't worry, I didn't learn much. Do you know where we're going?"

"Yes," said Cathal carefully. "We are headed to a small town which is right on the boundary between the magi controlled lands and the lands controlled by those who cannot do magic. Anyways, we should go find Merlin because I'm starving!"

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the long delay in putting this chapter up. There has just been a lot going on in my life, including finding and getting dumped by a girl I liked a lot. Hope you enjoy this chapter. I don't know when the next one will be up, since I have LSAT's in December, my spare time will be spent studying. I'll try to get another one up soon though. Thanks for being so patient. And to my wonderful reviewers!!

And a special thanks to Sean for correcting my mistakes.


	15. Trouble Brewing

Chapter 15: Trouble Brewing

Hours before sunrise, in the crystal mining town of Westend, a calm silence hovered above the rooftops. The light of the stars and moon were muted by overhanging clouds. The torches on the outer walls had burned out earlier in the night, and were now only slightly smoking stumps. The denizens of Westend were peacefully asleep in their beds. Even the guards stationed on the walls could be seen, if anyone was awake to see them, leaning back on their wooden stools, 'resting' their steel covered heads on the cool stone, with only a weak grasp on their wand or staff. The air around them possessed a lulling quality, like a fog of eternal slumber.

Suddenly, the peace was broken by a rain of flaming boulders descending upon the unsuspecting town. Roofs of houses in nearly every district were set ablaze; with the fire spreading faster than the wizards could hope to control. Towers and other buildings were felled by the onslaught, crushing those who were caught unawares. A mass panic had taken over the formerly sleeping town. There was no hope of the military restoring order, for they were also drowned in a sea of anarchy. From time to time, a few hodgepodge groups of town wizarding militia, or dragonriders could be seen desperately trying to form up. Even though they were trying their best, these groups would still be woefully unprepared for the inevitable assault that was to come

Sammel, and his friend Gregor, were two such dragonriders. Both were standing on the ground trying frantically to keep their dragons calm in the midst of this sea of panic.

Garbed in a mix of thin, white-plated crystal armor and dragon hide, the two dragonriders were still a menacing sight, even though their faces and hands were coated with black soot. Sammel stood at about 5'9", broad shouldered, but not blocky, with long dark hair pulled back into a pony-tail, and an almost flat chin. His bright green eyes were a clear contrast to the dark mass covering the rest of his face. Gregor, on the other hand, was almost the opposite of Sammel. The only similarity they shared was their height. Gregor was thin and lanky, with short spiky blonde hair, an angular chin, and very dark brown eyes, which could almost be considered black.

They were receiving orders from their short, pudgy commanding officer, whose nervousness about never having been in a real combat situation before was clearly evidenced by his high pitched laughter, the slight shaking of his hands, and his copious sweating. The inability of the officer to rein in his own fears only contributed in dropping the morale of the soldiers under his command even more.

"What the hell is going on here?" Gregor yelled to Sammel, while quickly blasting a redactor curse at an incoming boulder, splintering it to pieces.

Before Sammel could form a response, an explosion twenty feet away blew a section of the wall inwards, knocking several repair wizards, who were trying to reinforce the walls, to the ground. Almost as if it were timed, another two explosions caused breaches in the northern and southwestern walls.

"Airborne, NOW!" squawked the officer, quickly putting on his crystal helmet and mounting his dragon. He immediately kicked off into the air without waiting for the rest of his squadron. The rest of the group followed as fast as they could. Many riders did not make it, as an unexpected barrage of arrows was fired as they were ascending.

Sammel and Gregor were maneuvering as best they could, giving their dragons both verbal instructions and sending instructions through imagery by using the mind link that they shared. By the time they had reached the safety of the clouds, only Sammel, Gregor, and three others had made it through the gauntlet. This meant that over three quarters of the already small force had been felled by the arrows, including their commanding officer.

"What do we do now?" whined one of the surviving riders. "Everyone else is already dead! I didn't sign up to be a pincushion. I'm leaving."

Before he could order his dragon to do anything, the whiner suddenly found four wands pointed at him, which were held by determined faces.

"We may not need pitiful men such as you," Gregor gritted through his teeth. "But we need every dragon we can get in order to give those on the ground a chance to escape. You will _not_ leave, do you understand me?"

The whiner looked around fearfully, before his dragon spoke up. "_T-they arrre correct… do not be a cowarrrd._" Bringing his head up, the dragon addressed the rest of the group, "_I will fighttt. If I die, may I brrring honorrr to my clan._"

Lowering his wand and motioning that the others do the same, Gregor announced, "It is settled, then. We fight. We will descend fifty feet and see what is happening before we take action. Most likely we will make one, maybe two sweeps over the area before picking up any survivors and heading northeast to the garrison in Westergate. Any objections?"

"Agreed," chorused the other three riders. The whiner merely nodded his head, as if resigned to his death.

"Keep your helmet communicators on," yelled Gregor, as he lowered his faceplate and spurred his dragon to descend downwards. Gregor thought to himself, if not for their present situation, it would have been a majestic sight to see this line of dragons in formation tucking in their wings, and diving towards the ground.

After they had descended out of the clouds, Gregor could see the mass destruction that had taken place in Westend. While the enemy's catapults and archers were eerily silent, the current devastation was worse than he could have ever imagined. Through the three breaches in the town's walls, streamed literally thousands of armored men. He could see a few telltale flashes flaring up now and again, which meant that spells were being fired, but those were few and far between. The sea of attackers seemed endless.

"Damn," came Sammel's voice through Gregor's helmet communicator. "Those are humans. Non magic wielders I mean, how did they get through our defenses?"

"I do not know," replied Gregor, unsure. "The only thing I know is that if we do not hurry, they will have slaughtered everyone in the town."

On the general announcement channel, Gregor ordered, "Attack formation W, quick strafe on the south end, one and two will veer east, while the others veer west. We will meet past the north end of the town. Enlarge your seats and try to pick up any survivors you can. We need to head to Westergate to warn of a possible attack. Let's go!"

The five dragons began their rapid descent towards the doomed town. From the ground, they were at first only pin sized, before quickly growing into monstrous looming shadows, which silently glided over the invaders breathing down a rain of death. Bright blue and orange balls of fire were joined by green and red spells, catching the attackers entering through the south wall. Whether touched by fire or magic, the result was the same, another lifeless body.

As they finished their pass of the south wall, Gregor and Sammel headed east, continuing to rain death down upon their enemies. Now that they were closer to the ground, Sammel could see the carnage that was wrought on Westend's unsuspecting populace. The ground was littered with sliced open bodies, snapped wands were lying everywhere, and the dirt had turned red because there was so much blood spilled. And yet the attackers continued to swarm, walking over the recently deceased. Sammel felt sick to his stomach; he was a soldier yes, but he had never thought that warfare could ever be this brutal.

Sammel suddenly heard a loud scream coming from his right. Scanning the town below, he saw her. A young girl, no more than ten, was trapped against a wall, with a masked soldier advancing on her, with his bloodied sword upraised, about to strike. Amassing all the power he had, he cried, "_Accio Corpus_!" He didn't think that his spell worked at first, until a ball of pink crashed into him. Sammel looked down elated that his magic finally had a use other than causing pain or death.

"Don't be afraid," Sammel tried to say in a soothing tone to the girl. "Everything will be alright, I promise. Now, just hold on tight. Can you do that?" The girl looked up at him with wide fearful blue eyes, but gave a small nod. That was good enough for him.

"I'm heading to the north wall with one survivor," said Sammel to Gregor.

"Understood," replied Gregor. "I'm done here too." Looking over, Sammel could see that Gregor carried two passengers. One elderly man, and a wounded guard.

At the north wall, they were met by only one dragon. "Report," ordered Gregor.

"Five and his dragon were taken out by some sort of unknown ballista, while four's dragon was taken down by ground archers. Four is with me, but he's in pretty bad shape. We need to get out of here, _sir_," said dragonrider number three.

"We have a total of three survivors with us," Gregor announced. "The town is lost, head towards Westergate with all possible haste. We must warn them of the impending danger!"

* * *

When the seven weary travelers finally were in range of the city of Westergate, the sight that met them turned their bleak situation into a hopeless one. From their vantage point, a few miles from the city, they could make out the sight of smoke rising from inside the high stone walls.

It was morning by the time they arrived at the once grand city. The sun was shining brightly upon the cracked white stone towers, and the rubble strewn ground. The riders and passengers could see that the city had been ravaged in the same way that Westend had been.

Here bodies littered the ground, but unlike Westend, there were a great number of dead, made up of both wizard and non-wizard. There seemed to be no survivors, only an everlasting cesspool of the dead. Houses and shops were decimated. Even the sturdy ancient council chamber, where the local governing of the western magical realm was done, had been reduced to nothing more than a pile of pulverized white powder.

"What do we do now?" asked the elderly man behind Gregor.

"We head to Norhaven, and demand an audience with the Mage Council," announced Gregor to the group. He added to Sammel, on a private channel, "And get court-martialed, and probably hanged in the process. Those bastards will probably accuse us for deserting, instead of staying and dying."

"Damn," Sammel swore under his faceplate. "I would rather not have the death announcements of Sammel Gryffindor and Gregor Slytherin going out anytime soon."

Gregor laughed, "I heartily agree with that statement, old friend."

* * *

Meanwhile, on the opposite end of the magical realm, Harry, Merlin, and Cathal had finally reached their destination after weeks of traveling. They were in a relatively secluded area of the country, with the nearest town being half a day's ride away. The trio was riding along a little used path, under a multitude of trees, all of which just had their leaves turn a shade of orange red, signaling the approach of fall. The slowly setting sun gave off a pleasant glow, further accentuating the color of the foliage around them.

Harry was enjoying the pleasant scenery. He did not think such sights still existed in modern England, or if they did, the Dursleys never took him there. Looking past Merlin, Harry could make out a small clearing, with a small one story stone and oak cottage in the middle. He assumed that this was where he would be staying for the next six months.

Almost as if he had read Harry's thoughts, Merlin announced, "Harry, Cathal, this is where we will be training Harry for the next couple of months. My home away from home, if you will, is completely self sufficient. We should have no need of leaving the area. "

Upon closer inspection, the house was larger than Harry had thought. It was just a little smaller in square footage than the Dursley's home. The bottom of the house was supported by aged, but strong, oak beams. A small oaken staircase led to the porch, which was made of a combination of wooden planks, whose composition Harry could not identify. The walls of the house were made of plain grey stone of varying shapes and sizes, looking to be held together only through magical means. The door was also made up of some type of strong wood. Many windows were set in what must have been grooves cut into the stone itself.

The inside of Merlin's house gave off a homey feeling. There was a subtle quaintness that pervaded the air. There was a large fireplace which was set on the far side of the common space, opposite the door. The entire floor was covered with soft and warm bearskins. There were large overstuffed couches positioned around the fireplace. Behind the couches was a small circular dining table. And bookshelves were placed in any area that once had free wall space. To the left was a basic kitchen, and there were three doors on their right, which presumably led to their personal rooms.

"Harry, put your bags in your room. Take the door in the middle. Then I am going to try something, which is unorthodox, but should end up saving us many precious months of time," said Merlin, heading for his own room.

Harry entered the middle room, which was quite dissimilar from his room in Norhaven. It was small, with a small goose feather filled bed and a small chest in the upper corner. In the lower corner was a small desk. Next to the desk there was another door. Looking to see where it led, Harry found a small magical bathroom. It was very simple; there was a small shower stall, a toilet, and a sink with a mirror. He quickly threw his gear into the chest and went back into the common room. There he found his master sitting in one of the couches.

"Sit down Harry," said Merlin. "Just relax and clear your mind of all thought like we have practiced before."

"Okay," said Harry. He made himself comfortable on the opposite couch from Merlin. It wasn't that hard, since the couch was actually quite soft and warm.

"Tell me when you are ready," said Merlin.

Harry pictured the flame, pushing all his thoughts, worries, and concerns into it. "Ready."

Harry felt the briefest touch of Merlin's mind on his through the bond of apprenticeship. This didn't last long before Merlin pulled out. Suddenly Harry was assaulted with images and memories from Merlin, he was able to withstand the pain for a few seconds before it overtook him, rendering him unconscious.

* * *

The first thing Harry felt when he woke was pain, immeasurable pain. It felt as if several hippos decided to tap dance on his head, but messed up and fell instead. He tried to lift his head up, but that small motion caused him to see bright flashes of light and made him want to throw up.

He quickly put his head back down, and heard a voice say, "Here, drink this. It'll help." A bottle was pressed against his lips, and he drank without thinking. He would not make the mistake of drinking without asking first ever again. The drink was revolting, it was incredibly bitter, and tasted like a combination of sawdust, motor oil, and licorice.

"Augh," choked Harry, trying to finish swallowing. "What was that stuff?" His eyes were slowly beginning to water, but he could at least sit up now without much pain. Next to Harry stood the large form of Cathal, who was grinning down upon him.

"A combination of a revival potion, headache potion, and Elven hangover cure," laughed Cathal. "It tastes horrible, but it works. You should have heard Merlin over there sputtering when I gave him the stuff."

Harry chuckled a little, when he did indeed hear Merlin's groans of complaint.

"I think doing that twice a lifetime is enough," groaned Merlin, finally sitting up. To Harry, he asked, "How do you feel?"

"I feel like my head is about to explode, what happened?"

"I just transferred directly into your memory the knowledge of how to use your magic to order your mind."

"Order my mind," Harry asked confused. "What do you mean?"

"You have told me about your 'Occlumency' was it?" Merlin said. "You said it is a way to control your mind and protect it against outside intrusion. That is not the only thing that magic can do for your mind. Ordering your mind means reordering your ability to learn, to make it more efficient. You will be able to learn quicker, understand concepts with greater ease, and absorb more information into your memory. This way, hopefully, I can teach you enough to survive the pitfalls that Grece has probably laid out for you."

"Wait. If this would have let me learn faster, than why didn't we do this months ago?"

"I have always been a believer of self-discovery, and the accomplishment that comes with such discovery. In a way, the memory transfer is cheating the learning process. It would normally take years of training before one would even attempt to learn how to order the mind. If we had time, I would have had you trained and ready before teaching you the process of mind-ordering. But, at the moment, the transfer was necessary," Merlin explained. "Besides, mind transfers leave dreadful headaches, and kill off some of my taste buds, I think."

"I understand," nodded Harry. "So what now?"

"'Remember' how the mind-ordering is done, and then do it," Merlin said.

So Harry tried to recall how to do the mind-ordering, and then it popped into his head how to do it. He concentrated, already having the knowledge of what to do, what it would feel like, and the fact that he would succeed. He could feel the walls of his inner mind shifting. Everything became more polished. His previous memories also became sharper. Concepts that had previously eluded him, suddenly were understandable.

"Wow," whispered Harry in awe.

Merlin merely nodded, while Cathal hauled Harry to his feet, saying, "Get your rest kid. Tomorrow officially starts the first day of torture."

* * *

Cathal wasn't kidding when he used the word torture. Harry was dragged out of bed hours before the sun would break the horizon. The stars could still be seen in the sky above, though it was lightening to a dark blue color from its previous black. He slowly shuffled behind Cathal, following him out the door.

"Ah, what a nice morning. I think a long run should invigorate us," said Cathal too cheerfully.

Harry could only groan as Cathal started to move. The early morning would have been nice if Harry had not been forced to run. Cathal started them off at a slower pace, at only a slight jog around the grounds of the cottage, in order to warm up their muscles. Then he started at a faster pace into the woods. Harry had no choice but to follow.

"The run wouldn't be so bad if it was a little later," Harry thought. All he could do now was keep up. Only the sounds of nature greeted the two runners. There was the soft chirping of waking sparrows, and the gentle clicking of the hidden grasshoppers. Occasionally soft but rapid footfalls could be heard, most likely from wild hare which inhabited the area. As Cathal ran, no sound could be heard from his footfalls, but Harry was not so lucky at first. He could probably be heard from miles away, his footfalls echoed with the sounds of snapping twigs and the crunching of fallen leaves. Slowly, however, he noticed how Cathal ran, and began to learn where he was supposed to step, and what part of his feet to run with for speed and silence. Soon, both Harry and Cathal were grinning, running neck and neck, with only the sounds of their heartbeats to give away that anything was out of the ordinary.

The sun had given the sky a healthy yellow-orange tinge, before the two runners returned to the clearing of the cottage. Harry was tired, no matter how quickly his mind was able to learn, his body was a completely different story. He immediately pulled in as much magic as his body could hold, and set about refreshing his tiredness. Harry let out a contented sigh when he felt his fatigue lifting and his soreness disappearing. As for the remaining magic, he slowly let it go, relishing the warm feeling that came with holding magical energy.

"Enjoy the run?" asked Cathal, bringing Harry out of his reverie.

"Surprisingly, yes," answered Harry. Before he could bat an eye, Cathal had launched a roundhouse to Harry's left side. Instinctively, Harry blocked downwards with his left forearm, while moving back and to the right. He barely had time to move, as Cathal had followed his previous attack with a spinning roundkick to the face. Harry ducked under the kick, and rose with an uppercut aimed at Cathal's side while he was landing. Unfortunately, Cathal had moved back just enough, so that Harry's knuckles only grazed his side. The elf quickly moved in again, throwing an elbow at Harry's throat. He used his right hand to deflect it, and with his left hand, he tried to hit Cathal with a knifehand strike. His arm was grabbed before his hand hit the target, and Harry found himself briefly in the air, and then on his back, with Cathal's heel pointed right above his face.

"Yield," asked Cathal.

"Yeah," replied Harry, before being helped to his feet. "I was so close."

"Aye," said Cathal, smiling. "But this is where you went wrong." And he proceeded to show Harry how he had been beaten.

* * *

A/N: I hope you like this chapter everyone, I worked pretty long and hard on it. The plot will come together soon. Chapter 16 is actually finished believe it or not, but it's off being beta read at the moment. I'm currently working on chapter 17. Remember reviews always give me the incentive to write!!

Thanks to all for reviewing, and Sean for betaing.

**Haplo: Ok, Helmet Communicators/ Bathroom… just take on faith that these people use magic, and can once in a while do stuff out of the ordinary )**

**Gaul1: Nope, to Allison, Harry has just disappeared. I know it's mean, but hey, you'll find out why it's not that bad soon!**

**Volo: Yay, makes me feel like I'm doing a good job!**

**Lorna: Yeah, you're right about Harry just accepting that it was Merlin. But if you didn't know where you were, and had just been hit with the killing curse, would you be thinking logically ;-) **


	16. The Long Wait

Chapter 16: The Long Wait

_Harry found himself lying in a barren world. The ground was hard and shifted easily. He could not see anything, darkness surrounded him. There was no wind, no sound, except for his shallow breathing. He slowly stood up, and tried to call on the surrounding magic. _

_To his surprise, there was none. He took a deep breath and tried again, nothing. He tried his personal reserves, to no avail. He had no magic! Harry began to panic. Here he was, stuck in some unknown world, without a clue how he got here, and he was defenseless. _

_Without warning, a high-pitched laugh sounded from behind him. Harry turned around, looking for the source of the laughter, but was only met by the somber pitch-black environment. The laughter grew louder and louder, it was coming from all around him now. _

_Then, a shape started to form in front of him. An outline could be seen, it was as if an even darker shadow began to emerge from the surroundings. The shape began to become clearer, as everything around it began to lighten in comparison. When it fully materialized, Harry could make out a slight human resemblance. The figure raised its head, and glowing blood-red eyes met bright green ones. _

_"Hello Harry," Voldemort said, with a hideous snake like smile. "So good of you to join us." He raised his wand, and trapped Harry in a full body bind. _

_"Now you will see what it means to defy Lord Voldemort." He gave another wave of his wand, and three spots were illuminated with such harsh light, that Harry was blinded. Once his eyes had adjusted, what he saw made him scream in silent fury. Under one light, Ron and Hermione were bound, gagged, and tied to a post. Both were wriggling, desperately trying to escape. Under the other light, Allison was suspended by chains that were bound around her wrists, unconscious. And under the third light, was Ginny, who was neither unconscious nor bound. In her brown eyes, she had a defiant look, which clearly showed her belief that Harry would save them. _

_Harry wanted to break free, to yell for Ginny to run, but he could do none of that. He could only look on helplessly, waiting for Voldemort to act. With a sadistic laugh, Voldemort yelled, "Imperio!" casting the curse on Ron and Hermione. Flicking his wand, the ropes binding them disappeared. _

_"A duel," said Voldemort, with glee. "to the death, between your two best friends. Fitting isn't it Harry." _

_Ron and Hermione began to circle each other, wands upraised. They began blasting hexes and curses at each other, ducking, dodging, and counterattacking. Finally, both yelled at the same time, "Avada Kedavra" Green light simultaneously shot out from both their wands, and they dropped down on the ground, staring up at Harry with lifeless eyes. _

_"NOOOOO!" Harry wanted to shout, but unable to. He couldn't believe that he had just lost both of his best friends. Again, he could only watch as Voldemort slowly sauntered up to Allison. _

_"Potter's 'love'," Voldemort mocked. "I wonder…what would happen if she lost her mind? Let's find out shall we? CRUCIO!" _

_Allison began to spasm, and foam at the mouth. Blood began to pour out of her nose, and sickening cracks could be heard as her body was subjected to repeated Cruciatus curses. After twenty minutes, Voldemort finally lifted the spell. He stepped back from the hanging, and now lifeless body. _

_"Oh, dear me. I guess I made her dead, instead of insane. I'll have to do better next time." Voldemort taunted. He walked up to the form of Ginny Weasley. "Ah… the girl who opened my chamber. The one who still holds that Harry Potter will always be there to save her. I wonder, will the 'great' Harry Potter be there for her this time? AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

_"Please no…", Harry silently begged, as the green light sped towards Ginny, still with a hopeful expression on her face…_

Harry awoke with a start. Beads of sweat were dropping from his forehead onto the bridge of his nose. He remembered that he was in his own room, in Merlin's cottage. It was just a dream. Well, more like a recurring nightmare that he had been having for the past three months. He wasn't sure what it meant, there was no pain in his scar, Voldemort couldn't touch him in this time. Still, he wondered what would happen if he never made it back. Would he have failed all his friends? Would he fail the world? His thoughts lingered on this possibility a little longer before Harry forcefully pushed the thoughts out of his mind.

"Just concentrate on now," Harry told himself. "I can't do anything about the rest."

He got up out of bed, and looked out the window. It was still a few hours before Cathal would come and wake him up. Harry sighed, climbed back to bed, and pulled the covers over himself. Hoping that by resting his head on the pillow that he would be able to recapture a few more precious hours of sleep, Harry stared up at the ceiling, and began to think about everything that had happened.

They had been staying at this secluded location for three months now, and Harry had been put hard at work for those months. After he had re-ordered his mind, things just became so much easier, but Merlin was still pushing him to the limit. He had learned workings of magic that he had never realized could be done.

Harry laughed inwardly, as he remembered when Merlin kept drilling that, "Like liquor, how well you do magic depends on how much you can hold. But magic, unlike liquor, is only limited by your imagination."

Now, Harry was versed in rudimentary healing skills, enough to keep him alive if need be. He could finally protect his mind, and even use it to attack another wizard. He no longer had any trouble performing wandless magic, and could, for the most part, perform mental magic.

_For the most part…_ Harry thought. After trying for two months, he was finally able to call upon his storm wizard abilities consistently, if he shaped the magic with his hands. His abilities didn't seem to always work if he was using mental magic, though. He gave a mental sigh. There was still so much that was unknown about his abilities, not even Merlin knew much about the subject. Most of what he had learned so far was by, surprisingly, reading about the myths and legends of Thor's feats, and trying to perform some of those feats using his talent.

On the bright side, his morning runs and training with Cathal were paying off. He still lost many of his matches with the elf, but he did win once in a while. Their matches were becoming longer and longer, and also more dangerous since they had progressed to using real blades. Also, Harry had been taught, by Merlin, how to use magic to enhance his physical prowess, allowing him to temporarily move faster, jump higher, and become stronger.

Harry wondered if anyone would be able to recognize him after these past few months. He was no longer small and skinny. After his growth spurt, and all the exercise, he stood at about six feet tall, with a strong, muscular body. His trademark lightning bolt shaped scar was covered by the fringes of his shoulder length raven black hair. He almost looked like Bill Weasley now, sans the dragon tooth earring.

"The Weasleys," he whispered quietly to himself. Thinking about his friends just brought a feeling of overwhelming guilt. He had no idea what to do, or how to solve that problem. He missed them all terribly, but could do nothing about it. And he was worried about what would happen should he not return to his own time. The prophecy would be fulfilled, and there would be no one able to challenge Voldemort; the world as he knew it would be thrown into darkness.

Then there was Allison. Harry didn't know what to do about her. Sure, he liked her, but was anything going to happen between them. He didn't know if she still felt anything for him after being gone for so many months, since he hadn't been able to communicate with her. They had just been on one date before he left.

"And I didn't even let her know that I was leaving Norhaven," Harry sighed in exasperation. "I wonder why my relationships always turn out disastrous?"

Frustrated and knowing that he wasn't going to get anymore sleep, Harry got up and put on his normal workout clothes, which consisted of a medieval style sweater and sweatpants made primarily of an unknown dark grey fabric. He grabbed his practice sword from the top of his trunk, and proceeded to head out the door.

After softly closing the heavy oaken door, Harry slightly shivered as his body was fully exposed to the chill of the very early morning winter air. He cast a wandless warming charm on himself as he walked down from the porch, onto the snow covered ground. Slowly drawing his practice saber from its sheath, Harry took a moment to silently appreciate the beauty of his surroundings. The entire ground was softly blanketed with fresh white snow. The trees stood tall and patient, with their branches bare, awaiting the rebirth which would accompany the coming of spring.

He brought his sword up, so that the flat of the blade was lightly resting against his forehead. Fast as lightning, he viciously slashed downwards diagonally. Continuing the motion, he spun his sword around in an arc, and brought it back up. Then, he began to execute a series of slashes, parries, stabs, spins, and flips that Cathal had drilled into him.

* * *

A few hours later, Cathal stepped out onto the front porch and found Harry running through one of the higher level blade forms that had been taught to him. He had to admit, Harry was progressing very well. In fact, the elf neglected to tell Harry that his skills had progressed to a level which was on par with many blademasters, even though he had less than a years worth of training. It was almost as if Harry was born to battle. Like Merlin, Cathal was quite fond of Harry; he was like a little brother to the elven warrior.

"That's why I'm being so hard on him," thought Cathal, frowning. "He has many unpredictable, and I'm sure dangerous, tasks which await him. I have to make sure he's ready. His skills are progressing well; someday soon he will be ready for the blademaster trials."

Walking towards Harry, Cathal coughed loudly to alert Harry to his presence, since he didn't feel like being accidentally cut by Harry's sword. Harry finished up the last few moves of the form and turned around to face Cathal.

"Couldn't sleep," Harry explained, with a shrug.

"I understand," Cathal said, nodding. "Go inside and get some breakfast, I think you've had enough exercise for today."

As Harry was heading towards the house, Cathal called over his shoulder, "By the way, eat well, Merlin wants another match with you today." He then pulled out his own sword, and started his workout for the day.

* * *

Harry found himself face to face with Merlin, who was standing about thirty feet away. Both were in a large clearing not far from the cottage. The clearing was surrounded by a shimmering protective shield, which glowed a light turquoise, about seventy feet in diameter. Cathal was sitting on a rock outside the barrier, casually observing the coming match between teacher and student.

"Ready?" Merlin shouted across the field. Harry could only sigh; he had not won a match against his mentor thus far. He had come close a few times, but Merlin was not known as one of the most powerful wizards of all time for nothing. He nodded to Merlin, and the match began.

Harry raised his hands and summoned two bolts of lightning, which arced towards Merlin. The ground shook and boulders rose up from the ground, shooting off sparks as the blue-white bolts of energy met with unyielding stone. Suddenly, flaming arrows started to fire at him, he sprinted towards his left, just barely missing getting hit. He, however, almost walked into a fireball as a result. Crossing his forearms above his head, Harry surrounded himself with a golden nimbus of light, which absorbed the energy coming from the flames.

_There's got to be a way to beat him_, thought Harry, while transfiguring pebbles into boulders to shield him as he ran. Then, an idea popped into his head. _It may just work… _

He stopped in his tracks, but sent his mind ahead to continue enlarging boulders, to make Merlin think that he was still headed that way. Four transformed boulders later, a blasting curse sent debris flying where Harry would have been. As brown colored dust and small rock particles slowly began to drift towards the ground, Harry created an illusion of himself. He simultaneously cast a light reflecting shield, which successfully rendered him invisible. Summoning a small amount of energy, he easily jumped onto the large rock, while his mirror image was sent running into the settling cloud of dust. Harry ran parallel to his mirror image towards where he thought the spells were originating from.

Harry breathed a small sigh of relief, as his double bore the brunt of the assault. Just for good measure, he made his image zigzag, duck, and roll. _It wouldn't be good for Merlin to realize that I'm not where I appear to be_, said Harry to himself.

Gathering his magic, Harry began to summon wind and rain, in an effort to try and obscure Merlin's vision. It seemed to work. His teacher put his arms up in order to shield his eyes, as his blue robes were being drenched. Wanting to end this quickly, Harry raised his arms, and shot two fast moving stunning spells from the palms of his hands. The two bolts of shimmering red light sped towards the unsuspecting wizard. The result of the spell, however, was unexpected. Instead of causing the victim to fall unconscious, Merlin shattered into pieces when hit with the stunners, which fell to the ground like glowing crystal shards.

"_An illusion!," _Harry cursed internally. "_Damn, Merlin must have had the same idea that I had._" Immediately, he visualized a strong web of energy surrounding him, which would catch any magic thrown at him. He did this just in time, since a multitude of bright multicolored bolts of magic were thrown at his shields. Harry couldn't even begin to count the number of different curses and hexes that were thrown at him. The air in front of him began to glow red, showing that his shield was weakening. But he couldn't move; he would lose his shield if he did. Beads of sweat began to slowly trickle down his face, as Harry struggled to keep his shield intact. There seemed to be no way to escape the inevitable.

"_Think Harry, THINK!"_, he silently shouted to himself. Then, as if a light switch was turned on in his head, he began to change his shielding. He visualized his shield acting like an umbrella, deflecting the rivulets of magic and allowing them to drain into an awaiting 'bucket'. After allowing the magic to collect, he dipped into that pool of power, closed his eyes, and summoned the most intense flash of light that he could manage.

Even through his closed eyelids, it seemed like he was staring at an exploding supernova. Only having a few stars affecting his vision, when he opened his eyes, he ran towards where he last remembered the spells being sent from. Harry jumped, and performed a flying side kick.

"Ooof," someone grunted. Harry must have caught Merlin off guard, but that initial surprise soon wore off, as he was on the receiving end of his teacher's punch. Both opponents regressed to using hand to hand combat. They were both well versed in _Cam'dagora_, but had to split their concentration between using physical and magical attacks. Rocks, branches, and any other unattached objects were magically hurled at one another, trying to break each other's concentration. However, not much other advanced spellwork could be done.

After several failed attempts, Harry was finally able to tap into his elemental abilities using thought magic, and sent wind at Merlin. His concentration was not great enough, though, and he only succeeded in summoning a small bit of wind to use. It proved to be enough of a distraction, allowing him to cast a wandless banishing charm on Merlin, sending his opponent airborne. Taking advantage of the situation, Harry quickly sent numerous globs of shimmering blue-white ice flying, which would become ice manacles on contact. His teacher managed to dodge most of them, but his right arm was not quick enough. The ice closed around his wrist and chains of ice shot out and wrapped themselves around a nearby tree.

Before his teacher could use fire to melt the ice, Harry waved his hands, and sent water gushing up from under Merlin, turning the ground into a sort of quicksand. Once his opponent was waist high in the muck, he evacuated all water and moisture from the area, making it hard, solid earth again.

Merlin was really stuck now. He put up a strong deflection spell, but his shields could only take so much before Harry finally got a stunning spell through, knocking him unconscious.

The shimmering barrier was dropped since one opponent was knocked unconscious, and Cathal walked in clapping his hands.

"Good show," the half elf said to Harry. "I do not believe that I have ever seen Merlin defeated. You may have been the first since he became a Master Mage."

"A master mage?," Harry asked, confused. "What's that?"

"It is a story that Merlin should be telling," explained Cathal. "But I know you will not give up until I tell you something. Merlin is an incredibly powerful wizard, even more powerful than many who sit on the Magi Council. Wizards who pass certain trials are awarded the title of Master Mage, similar to Master Blades. Once long ago, he was on the council, but left disgusted after a few years. Few know what happened in the interim between then and when he returned with you. But, he still holds great sway with many of the members. There is more, but those details I leave for Merlin to tell you."

"I see," nodded Harry, making a mental note to ask Merlin about it later. "Should we go wake him up?"

"Sure," said Cathal. "But why not summon up some water, eh?" A large grin broke out on the elf's face.

Harry also grinned, before waving his hand in Merlin's direction. A torrent of water drenched Merlin, jarring him from unconsciousness.

"Pfft," spat Merlin. "What did you do that for?" Looking up at Harry and Cathal, with his wet shoulder length brown hair covering most of his face, and wearing twice soaked robes, Merlin closely resembled a wet rag.

"Well don't just stand there, help me out," shouted Merlin, grumpily. With the help of Cathal and Harry, he was eventually able to blast and pull himself out of Harry's trap.

After casting a drying charm on himself, Merlin said, "Nice job lad, I didn't expect that last trick of yours. Though I hope you come up with some new strategies, I won't be falling for the same trick twice."

Harry merely nodded, retrieving his battle harness, and sheathed his sword into the attached scabbard. Once the trio had picked up all their gear, they began to walk towards the cottage. On the path, Harry had the strange feeling that they were being watched. Slowly gathering power, so as not to draw attention to what he was doing, Harry conjured three small spikes of ice. Holding them in the palm of his hand, he watched and listened, ready to throw at the slightest provocation. He knew the elf had also noticed something, when he saw Cathal casually loosen his blade from his scabbard.

He noticed movement out of the corner of his eye on his left. In one smooth motion, he threw the ice spikes and drew his sword. Magically enhancing his speed, Harry ran headlong into the brush. Arrows whizzed by, but he was fast enough to cut down any that actually posed a threat to him. He quickly came upon a cloaked figure, brandishing a bow, nocking another arrow. Before the mystery attacker could get a shot off at him, he sliced through the bow, and sent off a strong banishing charm. Unfortunately, the attacker dodged the bolt of magic, and had also unsheathed a blade. The blade was slightly longer than Harry's Celtic style short sword, with a wider blade towards the tip. The handle was also more than four hand spans long, which allowed the wielder to have the distance advantage of a short staff.

The two slowly circled each other. Harry was slightly crouched, resting on the balls of his feet, his sword held ready. His opponent was spinning the long blade, waiting for an opening. Suddenly, Harry made a quick faint to the right, and then pivoted performing an upwards slash aimed at the knee. Metal struck metal, as his initial attack was blocked.

_Strike, parry, slash, block, counterattack, spin, CRACK!_ Harry disarmed his opponent by hitting the flat of his blade against the other's wrist. Following up with a sweep kick, the cloaked figure fell to the ground, hard. He quickly threw a stunner at his fallen enemy.

When his stunner hit, the cloak's hood fell away exposing the person's head. _It was a girl!_ She looked to be around Harry's age. Now, with her green cloak falling open, he could see that she was wearing a form fitting brown leather hunting outfit, and slightly sparkling silver chainmail over it. She had long, braided, golden hair. Her eyes were closed, but he could clearly see her delicate eyelashes. She had fair skin; a delicate heart shaped face, and pointed ears…

"Wait," Harry stopped. "Pointed ears, another elf?" Cathal crashed through the woods behind Harry, sword at the ready, scanning for their attacker; Merlin was slightly behind him. Cathal stopped, however, when he noticed the unconscious girl. His attention was immediately caught when he saw her ears. He looked a little more closely at her face, and his eyes widened as recognition dawned on his face.

"Harry," Cathal asked, worriedly. "You didn't…"

"Stunned," he answered simply.

"We should take her back to the cottage," Cathal said. Harry levitated her, and the three began to walk back along the path towards their temporary home. He wanted to ask the elf who this girl was, but decided that the answers would come in due time.

* * *

It was hours later, before the girl finally woke up. Displeased would be a mild way to describe her mood when she discovered that her weapons and armor had been removed. Harry was on watch in a nearby chair when she stirred back into consciousness.

Merlin and Cathal had left him to watch over her, while they went to confer on the meaning of the mysterious elf's arrival. He was once again relegated to doing the dirty work, being treated like a kid again. Looking down at her peaceful, and quite beautiful, face, Harry could not bring himself to be too resentful of being excluded from the conversation.

"I wonder why?" He thought sardonically, before noticing that their guest was waking up. Her eyelashes began to flutter at first, fighting off the lethargy that Harry had forced on her. She slowly opened her eyes, and as she realized that she did not recognize her surroundings, she jumped up startled.

"Calm down," Harry tried to say soothingly, while slowly standing up.

"_Manke naa amin?_" she yelled angrily, looking around for a weapon.

"I don't understand what you're saying. You're safe here," he tried explaining, hoping that Cathal or Merlin would hear the commotion.

"WHERE AM I?" she yelled again, in Common. She began to move in a circle, keeping the couch that she had been laying on between them. Harry didn't know what to do; in fact, he wasn't too sure that she wasn't going to just attack. His fears were finally realized when she raised her hand and muttered a spell.

"_Faina Templa!"_ she cried, raising her arm. A golden bolt of energy flared out from the palm of her hand, forcing Harry to jump away. His momentum was broken when he crashed straight into the bookshelf, causing shelves to break, and books to fall everywhere. Immediately raising his defensive web, he assessed the situation, trying to clear his mind of the anger he was feeling. He raised both his hands and concentrated. Four bolts of crackling red light left each of his palms, as his powered up version of the stunning spell sped towards the elf.

"'_Kshonna, wanya."_ She flicked her wrist, deflecting three of the eight bolts. With another cry, in what Harry assumed to be the Elven tongue, a light violet shield appeared in front of her, blocking the other five. It did cause her fatigue, though, as Harry could see her straining to hold the shield, clearly shown by her facial expressions. Before she could counterattack, Harry continued on the offensive and threw a bolt of silver light, which shattered her shield, and slammed into her midsection. Steel manacles appeared on her wrists and ankles, magically attracting each other, sending her onto her back. The four pieces of metal met and fused together, making it look like she had been 'hog-tied'.

It was this scene that Cathal and Merlin walked in on. They had finally decided to return to the common room to check on their new guest. Cathal looked somewhat shocked, and Merlin… he was fighting to hold back a smile!

Cathal went over to check on the girl, while Merlin slowly sauntered towards Harry. "You have an 'interesting' way with ladies, apprentice," Merlin taunted, raising an eyebrow. Harry's face began to turn red, as a heavy blush crept up upon his neck and cheeks. He tried to tune out Merlin's comments and listened to the strange language Cathal and the girl were speaking to each other.

"_Amin hiraetha, aierea_" Cathal said, "You are safe among friends, and family." Facing Harry, he asked, "Could you please remove the restraints, she won't attack you again."

With a wave of Harry's hand, the metallic restraints disappeared into nothingness. She sat up and turned to give Harry an incredibly murderous glare, before explaining to Cathal why she had been traveling these woods.

From what Harry could understand after she had finished her explanation, she was one of seven Elven scouts sent out from the hidden elf city: _vanimdole'ndor_. Many magical communities had recently been ravaged by an unknown army, and they had been sent to gather information about this new threat. She had found them, heading slowly in the direction of the city. On her way back, she was discovered by one of the enemies scouting parties, and had been evading capture ever since. She still had another week's journey to complete when she stumbled upon the trio.

"So, now the question is what do we do?" asked Merlin.

"I would feel better if we escorted her back," replied Cathal. "But I am here to train Harry, so it is up to him."

Harry answered, "Well, I can train on the way, and maybe pick up some Elven magic. I agree she should not go alone." He sighed, realizing that he really did have a "hero" complex going on.

At Harry's answer, Merlin nodded proudly, Cathal pulled Harry into a rough hug, and even the Elven girl smiled slightly, before she realized what she was doing and quickly turned away.

"I guess we should get a few hours of sleep," Merlin announced. "It sounds like we have some hard riding ahead of us."

Harry got up after Merlin had spoken. He went into his room and grabbed his belongings and brought them out into the common room. The girl was arranging wool blankets on the couch to make it more comfortable for sleeping when Harry tapped her on the shoulder. She spun around angrily, glaring at him for daring to lay a finger on her.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I just thought that since you've been traveling so much, that you would like to sleep in a proper bed. I don't mind sleeping out here; I actually enjoy listening to the fire dying down at night. So, if you would like, my bed is free for you to use."

She looked at him strangely, wondering what he was up to. Slowly she said, "That would be… acceptable. Is there some catch that I don't know about?"

"Well," said Harry, with a devilish grin. "You could tell me your name."

She actually gave a small smile at that question, before answering, "Kerin."

* * *

A/N: This chapter is appropriately titled eh? Sorry, my beta reader has been busy with medical school applications I think, so I can understand the delay in getting this back to me. Chapter 17 is about a quarter written, maybe less, since I have a lot I want to try to fit into that chapter. LSATs are in 4 weeks, so I'm not sure if I can get it out before then. Thanks for reading and reviewing everyone!

Special thanks to Sean for proofreading this.

And to all my wonderful reviewers, I hope you enjoy this )


	17. Evasion

Disclaimer: HP property of JKR… etc

Chapter 17: Evasion

The following morning had the four travelers heading to a nearby non-magical town, on only three horses. There was an uncomfortable silence among them, as Cathal and Merlin had earlier decided, while smirking, that Harry should be the one to carry the extra passenger. They reasoned that since time was not to be wasted, they had to reach the horse seller using the fastest method possible, which meant that all of them had to ride. His master and the elf warrior made excuses that their horses were too old to support more than one person, so Harry was stuck with Kerin in front of him, sharing a saddle. He had a continual blush, as he had to reach around her waist to grasp the reins. She did not seem to be affected, though, as she was sitting regally, with her back straight, seemingly ignoring Harry's presence.

"So," started Harry lamely. "How is it that you could do magic in battle?"

That was the wrong way to phrase the question, he realized, since she curtly replied, "Elves are magical creatures, therefore we can do magic."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way," Harry tried to apologize, shaking his head. Why did the presence of a girl always cause him to put his foot in his mouth?

Shifting uncomfortably, he tried to think how to rephrase the question before saying, "Cathal told me that Elves couldn't use magic unless fighting for Norhaven."

"Elves are slaves to no one," spat Kerin, bitterly. "There are some of us who are free, who have broken away from the chains that the Mages had forced upon us. And we will never be subservient again."

"I didn't mean to offend you," said Harry quietly. He seemed to have hit a nerve. "I don't really know too much about Elven or Magi history, I'm actually not from around here."

"You are magi," she explained, as if that were enough reason. "It does not matter where you are from; all human magic users are the same."

Harry could not figure out a way to convince her that he was different, so he just kept quiet for the moment. They rode in silence as the trees behind them slowly faded away, and the path in front became one which was better traveled. After another hour or so, the frequency of travelers on the road increased. There were merchants riding on wagons, carrying goods of various assortments, and groups of travelers in large entourages, hoping the old adage of 'safety in numbers' to be true. Soon, the four riders were absorbed into the mass of travelers who were also headed in the same direction.

As they got closer, Harry noticed that the town was much more different than he had expected it to be. In fact, town was not quite the word he would have used to describe it. The town was built on opposite shores of a major river, surrounded by high stone walls. The two entrances to the city were each located parallel to the river, which let the town act as a crossroads of sorts. Straw thatched roofs could be seen rising above the walls. Harry estimated such buildings to be about four or five stories tall. A few guards, garbed in red and black uniforms, were stationed on the wall looking extremely bored.

Before anyone could enter the city, they were searched by local guards at the gate. When it came to their turn a few gold coins from Merlin persuaded the guards to let them through quickly and with a _very_ brief inspection.

"Welcome to Brynn," smiled one of the guards, pocketing the coins.

There were throngs of people crowding the cobblestone streets of Brynn. Wagons and horses jockeyed for position with pedestrians and street vendors. Every time Harry turned his head, someone was holding something up to him, hawking their wares. Kerin had simply put the hood of her cloak over head, ignoring these hawkers.

Slowly making their way through the sea of people, they finally turned onto a less crowded side street. Looking around, Harry saw signboards with only pictures on them, which were symbolic of what a certain shop specialized in. He realized why the signs did not have writing on them, when he recalled a primary school lesson in history. The teacher had taught that most common people in the Middle Ages could not read or write, so shops which catered to this social class used symbols and pictures so that the lay people could identify them.

Thus far, Harry could guess at what each store contained save one. The blacksmith had a picture of a hammer and anvil; the cooper had a barrel on his signboard; and the pub was the one with a foaming mug. But Harry had no idea what the signboard with the two closed eyes was trying to show. He didn't want to ask anyone, since he felt it would have just made a fool of him, and he really did not want to look like even more of an idiot in front of Kerin.

Merlin and Cathal stopped and dismounted in front of an old timber building, whose once white paint was now weathered and worn. It looked to be a solid structure, with two large doors in the front, one of which was slightly ajar. The sign hanging above the doors showed that the building was a stable. Tying his mount to a nearby hitching post, Harry followed the others inside through a small side door.

Upon entering, his nose was assaulted with the smell of hay, horse sweat, and droppings. There were a few men who were carrying sacks of oats or grains to give to the horses. One of which told them to go to the office located in the back of the stables.

The office itself was less smelly, but incredibly hot, due to a nearby stove being lit. Barrels containing wax wrapped travel cheeses, hard biscuits, dried beef, and other assortments of travel food, lined the walls. A counter was set up in the back, behind which sat an elderly clerk, who looked to be in his late sixties. He had long white hair, an unkempt white beard, and a gnarled face that looked like it was carved from oak. The clerk got up, and slowly limped towards them, leaning heavily on his wooden cane.

"What can I do for you folks," asked the clerk.

"We need a mount," said Merlin, since both the elves were remaining silent and had pulled the hoods of their cloaks above their heads, hiding their pointed ears.

"Take this chip," instructed the clerk, handing Merlin a wooden chip scored with an x. "Give it to one of the men outside, pick out the horse you want, and give the chip he gives you back to me."

They followed Kerin back into the stables, as she began to look for an appropriate mount. There were few choices sitting in the stables, most were plow horses, or other types of workhorses. There did not seem to be any mounts that Kerin could use. Harry could feel her annoyance with each passing stall. When they reached the last stall, they found the only mount that was somewhat close to a viable travel horse. It was an old grey mare, which looked like it hadn't had any physical exercise in a couple of years.

"We've been through the entire stable without finding even a half-decent horse," the elf scowled, throwing her hands up with frustration. "Where have all the usable ones gone?"

"Excusing yer pardon, miss," said one of the workers, walking towards them. "But ev'ry good horse was taken by that new army tha's been forming."

"What new army?" asked Merlin, interrupting whatever Kerin was about to say.

"They call themselves the Soldiers of Order," said the worker quietly, not wanting others to overhear. "Black armored killers on a foolish quest if ya ask me. Eradicate magic, what fool believes in magic?"

"Where is their headquarters?" inquired Cathal, from behind the worker.

The worker almost jumped, having not noticed Cathal's presence before. "I'm not sure where tha's is. But I've seen them in that pub down near the south side of town. The Bronze Boar, I think."

"Thank you for your help," said Merlin, handing him a silver coin. "We were never here."

"Right," replied the worker, biting the silver, not paying attention. "Never here…"

* * *

The interior of the Bronze Boar was exactly what one would expect from a medieval pub. With all the shutters closed, it was dark, dingy, smoke-filled, full of noise, and a cauldron of trouble, waiting to explode. The four had pulled their hoods over their heads, making sure to hide their faces, on the off chance that someone would be able to recognize them. None of the 'Soldiers of Order' had arrived yet, so they found an empty booth in the back corner, and quickly slid into it. Almost as soon as they sat down, a blonde middle-aged serving lady came up to the table, wearing clothing that showed off parts of her that Harry did not want to see, making him turn a shade of red in the dim lighting.

"We got some lamb chops today fer three silvers, mutton pie fer two, and a deer stew fer two," she recited, bored. "Ale's four coppers, house wine's five, and red juice be two."

"Ale and the pie."

"Ale and the stew."

"Wine, just wine," ordered Kerin, who grimaced at the thought of drinking the foamy ale.

"What's red juice?" Harry asked

The woman looked at him strangely before replying, "It be a juice made from the berries from the countryside, stuff that we don't make into wine."

"I'll take that then, and the stew," said Harry, not wanting to try anything too strong at the moment.

"That be 15 for the drinks," said the serving woman. Merlin took out the coppers, and then covered them with his hand. The woman nodded to him, leaving to get their drink orders, but not before giving Harry another strange glance.

After she left, Harry whispered to Cathal, who was sitting next to him, "What was all that about?"

He could have sworn he heard the elf chuckling in the noisy bar. "Harry, the local juice is usually a lady's drink, sweet and non-alcoholic. And even with your long hair, I still don't think you can pass off as one."

Everyone had a good laugh at that one; even Kerin snickered before quickly trying to pass off her laughter as a cough.

The serving woman came back a few moments later, plopping down their drinks unceremoniously, causing some of the soapy looking ale to spill out of their wooden mugs. Merlin handed her the money.

"Meal be six," she said curtly, before walking off to 'serve' another table.

Harry took a sip of the red juice, it actually wasn't half bad. It was actually a less sweet version of the juices that were served in Hogwarts.

A worn wooden bowl, containing the dark pungent stew was put down in front of him. He was also given a wooden spoon, and a half a loaf of steaming bread. He ripped off a piece of the bread, and ate it, after having dipped it into the dark liquid. The stew was very full-bodied and extremely spicy. He had to alternate eating the deer stew with bites of the bread. Before he knew it, his bowl was empty, and he was mopping up the remains with what was left of his bread.

"I take it you were hungry?" asked Merlin, smirking at his apprentice, only about a third of the way through his food.

"This one has a bottomless pit in him," commented Cathal, trying to act serious. "Otherwise I don't know how you could explain fitting that much food in there."

Harry was about to retort when he noticed a group of men enter the bar, all dressed in identical black tunics and dark grey pants. As they entered, the regular patrons seemed to give them a wider berth. Harry nudged Cathal, indicating to the elf that these may be the people they had come here to observe. He was surprised to note that many of them were no older than him. From their excited chatter and excessive boasting, they seemed to have been newly recruited into the Soldiers of Order.

"They are too young," whispered Cathal, casually observing the soldiers. "You can see it by the way they hold themselves. None of them have ever seen combat. I doubt the majority of them will survive their first engagement."

The elf sighed, before taking another drought of his ale. "It is sad realizing that their naiveté about true battle is what made many of them join. War is not about glory, riches, or honor. War is dirty, plain and simple."

"You sound like you've had plenty of experience," said Harry.

"Aye, I have committed some terrible acts on the battlefield, selfishly following the orders of Norhaven in order to ensure the existence of my own people. I am not proud of my actions. But there is nothing I, nor any of the others in the complex, can do about it. The survival of our races depends on our following orders; the magi would not hesitate on killing women and children in order to punish disobedience."

Harry nodded, not knowing what to say. He watched as another two of the new recruits came in waving their hands excitedly.

"… heard the news?"

"…center of town…"

"… charged with witchcraft… going to be beheaded…"

The young soldiers quickly left the pub, eagerly discussing the execution, and jostling to get through the door. Merlin got up afterwards, and left two extra coppers for the serving lady, before motioning for the others to follow.

The bright afternoon sun almost blinded Harry, as his eyes had to readjust from having stayed in the poorly lit pub for too long. He followed Merlin's example and untied his horse from the post.

"Harry," Merlin said, pulling his horse next to Harry's. "I need you to listen carefully. You and Kerin have to ride away, as fast as you can, from this city, towards _vanimdole'ndor_. Cathal and I will catch up with you there."

"Where are you two going?" Harry asked accusingly.

"To stop injustice."

"I'm coming with you," Harry argued. "Don't tell me that I'm too young, or that it's for my own good. I have been fighting since I was eleven. There's been a deranged dark lord gunning for my death since the night my parents died. So, don't give me any of that crap."

Merlin sighed, "I take it you have a plan."

Harry gave Merlin a sly grin. "Oh, yea."

* * *

Throngs of people were gathered at the center of town awaiting the impending execution. Many were members of the Soldiers of Order, but there were also many townsfolk mixed into the crowd and peeking out of windows. There were even street peddlers trying to sell everything from roasted chicken to 'holy water'. Among them, moved a young man with shoulder length dark black hair and bright green eyes. He was wearing a long black cloak, which concealed the sword strapped to his back.

Harry slowly made his way to the front of the spectacle, gathering power as he focused on casting thought magic. He would have much rather used the more reliable method of wandless magic to call forth his gift of storm wizardry, but in order for his plan to succeed, he could not afford to draw such attention to himself just yet.

Continuing to push his way to the front, he could see the platform that had been hastily erected. It was basically a few planks, supported by wooding scaffolding, allowing it to be higher than the heads of the people in the crowd. On top sat a single stone block. There were five fully armored men guarding the prisoner, four stationed on each corner, and one stationed at the top of the stairs, which led up to the platform. There was also one man dressed in armor, different from the others. Unlike the others, who had almost purely black armor, his had gold shoulder plates, which had a flowing red cape attached, golden gauntlets, and a silver rising sun engraved on the left side of his chestplate. With his helm off, Harry saw that the man's face was covered in battle scars, the most prominent of which was a diagonal slash running from his right temple to the left side of his neck. The man had short chestnut hair, a square jaw, and a slightly hooked nose. He might have once been considered handsome, before having his features marred. He was tall, and strongly built. He carried himself with confidence and authority, which indicated that he was not a new recruit by any means.

"Welcome, my friends," began the man, pacing the length of the platform. "For those of you in the crowd, who do not know who I am, allow me to introduce myself. I am Majer Bryant Garrison Eastern company commander of the Soldiers of Order. Our mission is simple; all those heretics who practice the evils of witchcraft and magic will be brought to justice. Bring out the prisoner."

A limp figure was dragged up onto the platform by two fully armored and masked soldiers. The figure was then unceremoniously dumped onto the floor of the platform. He was middle-aged, with unkempt long brown and grey hair. A torn and soiled tunic and trouser hung loosely on his emaciated body. His skin was pale, from lack of sunlight, though there were discolorations in many places. From being severely beaten, Harry assumed. The area around his left eye was purple and swollen. His remaining eye was a muted blue color, dull and lifeless, possessing no hope.

"Harold Kershmann," slowly intoned Bryant Garrison. The crowd quieted down, wanting to hear what the Majer had to say. "You are one of Brynn's healers. You had the duty of alleviating sickness, of curing diseases. Instead, you squandered what you had been given, by brewing vile and deadly potions to give to your patients. You have been accused of feeding a magical poison made with ground waste to the trader Trevor Hermean, which caused him to die of the shaking disease caused in him. What have you to say?"

"I did not kill him," rasped the healer, struggling to remain conscious. "He had a fever. The medicine I made from the ground plants…help to destroy that which causes the fever. I do not know what caused him to die, but there was no magic involved"

"Damn," Harry swore to himself, remembering what primary school health class taught him about fevers. "They're going to execute him for using Penicillin."

"We have heard the accused," announced the Majer, with a smirk. "What say the crowd, should we dismiss him?" There were many 'boos' and expletives shouted from those assembled.

"The people have spoken. Healer Harold Kershmann, you are charged with performing witchcraft, potion brewing, and murdering Trader Trevor Hermean. For these crimes you will be sentenced to death." He waved his hands at his soldiers, signaling them to pick up the former healer and placing his neck on the stone block.

"Ok," whispered Harry to himself. "Showtime."

He fully cleared his mind, concentrating on the task at hand. Harry had collected the amount of magic needed, but somehow his storm powers were still eluding him. He concentrated harder, as he saw the black hooded executioner step up, and raise his axe. He could not, would not, fail. For what seemed like hours to Harry, he struggled to grasp for his power. "_Just a little bit further…_," thought Harry.

Finally, fog began to fill in from an unknown source. Cloud cover darkened the sky, and a heavy rain buffeted those beneath it. Soon, the rain had become so intense, and the fog so opaque, that nothing could be seen. Though for some odd reason Harry could still sense what was around him, making it easier for him to maneuver through the now frightened crowd without being discovered. He also thought he saw two lighted outlines moving towards the platform, but when he blinked they disappeared.

People were running like chickens with their heads cut off, they had no idea where they were going. Harry quickly and silently moved through them, passing by the first guard without incident.

Ahead of him, the soldiers had their swords drawn, ready against their unseen enemy.

"Stay calm." Garrison bellowed. "We have an enemy among us, stand ready."

The guards did not stand a chance. They only had time to see a subdued flash of red light, before falling into unconsciousness. Harry had crept up and performed stunning spells on three of the nearest guards, catching their prone forms with tendrils of thought magic, quietly placing them down with unseen hands. The strain of juggling multiple magical tasks gave him a slight headache, but Merlin had put him through worse before.

Harry could sense that the continuing silence was making the Majer lose his cool composure. He could take advantage of that. He quickly stunned the last soldier before moving towards Garrison. Unfortunately, Harry was not paying enough attention and he stepped on a loose plank, which was enough to draw Garrison's attention, along with his wrath.

The Majer charged full force at Harry, before he could get into a defensive position. All he could was fall backwards, using his shoulder to execute a roll to the right when he hit the boards. Still unable to see well in the rainstorm, Garrison was at a disadvantage, and could not prevent Harry from drawing his sword a second time.

Unable to focus enough to use magic to enhance his speed or strength, Harry hoped his lessons with Cathal were enough to take on a professional soldier. Immediately going on the offensive, he faked a quick slash to Garrison's right temple, before bringing back his arm and slashing at the Majer's exposed left side. His blade was blocked, but he used the momentum to continue spinning, kicking back and planting his heel into his opponent's ribs. Harry charged as Garrison was knocked off balance, wanting to end this bout as quickly as possible. The professional soldier, however, was not going to make that goal easy.

Rolling forward onto one knee, the Majer swept his sword in a low arc, forcing Harry to jump or lose the ability to use his legs. He performed a back flip, landing behind Garrison. His strike was blocked, as the other was given enough time to rise. Both began a fast series of strikes and parries, but were ultimately forced to disengage and wait for an opening, rather than continue to waste energy.

"_Damn,"_ thought Harry, slowly circling as his opponent did the same. "_He's good. I don't know how long I can keep this up."_ He was tired. His limbs ached from blocking the strong blows of the Soldier of Order. If he did not end this soon, he would not be able to keep up this screen of rain, and they would all be caught. An idea popped into his head.

"_Let's hope he falls for this trick like Cathal did."_ Harry moved in with a strike, but as he was blocked, he loosened his grip on the handle. This caused the sword to be propelled from his grasp. With this development, the Majer's eyes developed a dangerous glint, and thinking he had won, stepped in for the kill without hesitation. As he lunged, Harry stepped forward and slightly to his right, using his left hand to catch the Majer's sword hand. Harry twisted the Majer's wrist, while driving his heel into the side of Garrison's knee, shattering it. With his opponent now slightly doubled over, he followed up by thrusting his elbow down onto the base of Garrison's skull, effectively knocking him unconscious.

Harry summoned his sword back into his hand. Sensing that Merlin and Cathal had already completed their part of the mission, he jumped off from the platform and went into a forward roll as his feet hit the ground. Through the opaque fog and rain he created he could sense that reinforcement soldiers were starting to swarm into the square. Pulling the hood of his cloak over his head, he hurriedly melded into a crowd of townsfolk that were running out of the area, who were screaming hysterically.

* * *

Heading towards the docks, Harry remembered that they were supposed to rendezvous on a disreputable looking ship called the _Merry Heron_. Merlin had bought passage for five on the ship because the captain did not ask questions, so long as an extra 'secrecy' fee was fully paid.

The docks of Brynn were a busy place, crowded with workers loading and unloading crates and barrels from the holds of anchored ships. The ancient looking wooden planks looked to be perpetually soaked by the brown river water sloshing beneath Harry's feet. Everywhere there were muscled dock workers lifting or hoisting; grizzled old deckhands staggering around inebriated and intimidating crew members eying everyone uneasily. Harry saw barrels marked with pictures representing 'wine' or 'ale'. Once in a while, he would see barrels labeled with flowing script holding more expensive items like olives or spices. These were unloaded from finer looking ships, which Harry guessed to be more suited to longer sea voyages, unlike many of the other ships.

Harry hastily walked along the dock's length, while trying to keep his steps casual so as not to draw attention from the always distrustful crew members. Not realizing that he had been holding his breath, he gasped for air as he exhaled upon making out the form of the _Merry Heron_.

The _Merry Heron_ was not so much a ship as it was a barge. There was one twenty foot and a smaller fifteen foot mast mounted on top of a slightly 'U' shaped hull. The bottom was large and flat, which allowed for more cargo space, but reduced speed in the water. On both sides of the ship, there were holes where oars could be extended, so that the ship would not be caught dead in the water during a trading run. The ship looked old, with many parts in disrepair, including an area of the hull which was merely boarded up instead of patched.

The gangway leading up to the ship rattled with each step Harry took, making him fear that the entire board would collapse under him. "_Wouldn't it be ironic,"_ he thought. "_If I got hurt here while coming out of the last fight without injury_." When he reached the top, a sailor armed with a heavy cutlass stepped in front of him. Beady eyes stared out at him from under thick eyebrows. His unshaven face presented an interesting contrast to his shaved head. Various inked tattoos of indecipherable symbols adorned the sailor's tanned and heavily muscled arms and torso.

"I have business here," he said. Harry purposefully tilted his head downwards, giving the sailor a cool stare showing he was not impressed. On the inside, however, Harry was squirming. He was not used to the height advantage he now possessed. He still had a mental image of himself as a small boy that few were physically awed by. Finally, the sailor slowly stepped aside, while dropping the point of his sword, allowing Harry to walk past.

He proceeded to walk past the rest of the workers on the main deck, into the shadowed door which would allow him access to the bowels of the ship. The wooden stairs were rotten and soft, while the newly replaced banisters were rickety and not very well designed. At the bottom of the stairs was a dark hallway, sounds of dripping water could be clearly heard, echoing the entire length of the passage. Suddenly his eyes began to burn, and his head felt like it was being stabbed by many small and sharp knives. Forcing his eyes open, he could make out dull grey outlines resembling people in the curtained off room next to him. Looking around, there were many such outlines, except for one compartment twenty steps ahead. In the compartment there was one of the dull grey outlined people, but there were also two outlines giving off a forest green glow, and one which gave off a bright aquamarine grow. Blinking again, Harry's vision returned to normal, and the headache had receded.

"_What the hell was that!?_" he thought, confused. "_This is the second time that it's happened. Maybe I'll ask Merlin about it later._" He kept walking until he could sense the magical presence of Merlin.

Stopping in front of that room, he pulled aside the curtain and stepped inside. He was met with the indifferent stare of Kerin, the thankful stares of Cathal and Merlin, and the wide eyed and frightened stare of an unfamiliar face. The stranger was dressed in a non-descript, and probably inexpensive, brown tunic and trousers. He had long white hair, a small mouth, and a large hooked nose. The only thing that looked out of place was his muted and terrified blue eyes.

"Blue," he muttered to himself. Addressing the others, "He's our guest, I take it?"

"Aye," said Cathal. "But he can't talk right now. Merlin silenced him when we cut him loose. Once we got on board, Merlin tried to let him talk, but all he would do was scream like a banshee. So, it was either use a silencing charm or gag him."

"I think that he might have preferred the gag," chuckled Harry. "And the disguise?"

"Illusion charm," said Merlin. "I'm glad that you got back safely. I was almost worried for a minute."

Harry smiled at his mentor. Turning to their 'guest', he said, "If I let you talk, will you promise not to start screaming?"

The healer looked around and nodded, deciding that anything was better than being put under 'witchcraft'.

"Good," Harry said, waving his hand in front of the healer's mouth, removing the spell binding the man's speech.

"Wh… Who are you?" questioned the man, fearing the response.

"We are people who do not like to see anyone unjustly punished," replied Merlin, with as little information about the group as possible.

"But you… all of you are witches," whined the man. "I'm doomed! Why did you have to come and take me prisoner? You put your vile witchcraft on me. They will kill me for being impure for sure!"

He jumped up, "I will report all of you to the captain. I will have done a great service for humanity. The Soldiers of Order will surely grant me a pardon." The healer tried to run out the door, but a bolt of scarlet light caught him in the back before he could take another step. He fell to the floor unconscious. The man's hard fall did not invoke sympathy from any of the other occupants of the room.

"Ungrateful," Cathal muttered.

Harry sighed, "Yes, but we did the right thing, even if the person does not thank us. In fact, being a hero is not easy. But when we have the choice between doing what is easy and what is right, we must choose what is right…" He thought back to his fourth year at Hogwarts, when he had no choice but to fight Voldemort. And there was his fifth year, when everyone thought he was crazy, yet he still stood by the hard truth that the dark wizard had been reborn.

"Sounds like you have had a lot of practice," Kerin cut in, bitingly. "You magi are always thinking that you are so superior. One day you will choke on your own arrogance."

Standing up, Harry walked over to the female elf and put his arms on either side of her head, looking down, green eyes into hazel ones, he softly asked, "Why do you hate me so much?"

"You are magi," she answered simply. "All magi are the same, self-interested, power hungry and cruel…"

"You're wrong about me," Harry cut her off, retorting in a calm voice, anger clearly evident in his eyes. "But you are so blinded by your own prejudices that you can't see that. I could hate you for your intolerance, or your hypocrisy, but instead I pity you." With that he stormed out of the room leaving a confused looking elf behind.

Softly, almost imperceptibly, she whispered to a now gone Harry, "…but I do not know why I cannot hate you."

* * *

Harry didn't care where he was going; he ignored the curious glances, and angry glares of the topside crew for violating the agreement by leaving their compartment. He needed fresh air, to take his mind off of everything. So, he leaned on the starboard rail, letting the cool wind caress his face. Unfortunately, his peaceful moment was disturbed by the approach of same sailor who had given him trouble earlier when boarding.

"Oi," yelled the crewmember, balling his fists and cracking his knuckles. "What are ya doin' up here. Get back down, where ya belon'!"

"No," Harry said simply, without turning around.

"I said get back down," the sailor growled, grabbing Harry's shoulder. Instinctively, Harry had grabbed his wrist, twisted, and flipped the unsuspecting bully over, face first onto the deck. He stepped back from the other with indifference, and turned back to watch the water ceaselessly splash against the hull. He could feel the beaten sailor get up, intending to charge Harry. The crew member would have experienced another painful fall if he had continued, but an authoritative voice boomed out:

"That's enough!"

A tall clean shaven man walked down from the upper deck. He had a square jaw, grey eyes, and short sandy blonde hair. He was wearing fine cut clothes: a crimson and gold cloth shirt, and black pantaloons. On his left side, he carried a sheathed rapier, with what seemed to be a well used gilded gold handle.

"What gives you the right to assault one of my men," the newcomer asked Harry, in a low and threatening tone.

"And who are you?" challenged Harry.

"Who am I," the man asked incredulously. "Why, I am the famous Captain Avian Grant. Now, answer me… what gives you the right to challenge one of my crew members?"

"He grabbed me first," replied Harry, shrugging. "I apologize if I hurt him, but he should not have attacked first."

"Aye," agreed the captain, grudgingly. "I will give you that. But you have violated your agreement and come topside. All passengers have to remain below decks until we arrive at port."

"Fine," answered Harry, coming to a decision. "Then for the next few weeks of the trip, I'll work up here."

The captain started laughing, "A land lubber like yourself? Work up here? Oh, that's rich!"

Calming down, he said, "Agreed, this should be amusing. And since you two have met…" He motioned the sailor Harry had flipped over, "Derec here will show you how things are done. Now a warning to both of you, any more 'confrontations' and both of you will be swimming to the next port. Understand?"

Both Harry and Derec nodded. "_Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all,_" Harry thought.

* * *

For the next few weeks, Harry performed mundane ship duties under the watchful and harsh gaze of Derec. He braided rope, helped hoist and lower the sails, rowed during periods of calm winds, and often took night watch. He rarely visited below decks, only going down periodically to assure Merlin and Cathal that he was alright. He never looked in the direction of the female elf. His mentor and blade instructor were not happy with his method of dealing with the situation, calling it childish, but they allowed him to do as he wished.

The ship itself had finally finished traversing the length of the river, and was stretching its sea legs. According to Merlin, this would cut down a lot of travel time, as the ship would find better winds on the sea. The plan was to exit through the mouth of the river and then travel south along the coast, until they reached the port near their final destination.

Derec had mostly kept his conversation with Harry to instructional topics, otherwise, he refused to talk to the teenager. Other members of the crew, however, were beginning to accept him more as one of them. Harry guessed that it might be because few previous passengers ever would have made the offer to work topside. Either way, it didn't make a difference to him; he was used to dealing with both fame and hatred.

On one cool night, two weeks into the journey, Harry was sitting high above the decks in what the crew had termed as the 'Eye of Merriment'. The 'Eye' was really just two planks nailed on either side of the twenty foot mast and a rope to hold keep balance with, giving a crew member a place to stand. He was finishing the final hour of his night watch shift when he spotted another boat. Without really thinking about it, he extended his senses on the wind towards the other ship. What he 'saw' caused such a surprise reaction that he almost lost his grip on the rope. Tightening his grip, he sent out his senses again to make sure. The ship was filled with thirty armed sailors, which would easily overcome the relatively small crew of the _Merry Heron_.

"A boarding party," whispered Harry to himself. He grabbed hold of one of the nearby ropes used to hoist the sail and slid down to the main deck. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he ran to the upper deck as fast as he could.

"S-Ship…" said Harry breathlessly to the night helmsman. "Might be pirates, I'm not sure." However, he was pretty sure that what he saw was indeed a boarding party, but he wasn't about to tell the crew that he could perform magic.

The bearded man, _Bret_, Harry remembered, looked at him curiously before asking, "Why do you think t'em's pirates? Cap'n dun like false alarms."

"I have a gut feeling," lied Harry. "Better to be woken and a' float, rather than asleep and at the bottom of the sea, right?"

"Aye," said the helmsman. He rang the bell which signaled to the crew that there was an emergency.

Sleepy crew members began pouring out from the lower decks, many of them rubbing their eyes, none looking too happy. The captain mirrored his crewmembers' sentiments, he was also not happy at being roused at such an early hour. Seeing Harry, he tightened his lips, before turning to his crew member.

"Report," he ordered.

"Sir," the helmsman barked. "Young 'arry 'ere said tha' t'ere be pirates off the starboard bow."

"This true?" the captain asked, giving Harry a steely glare. "Because I swear if this is a ruse…"

"No captain," answered Harry, matching the other's gaze. "I saw a ship off starboard, and my gut tells me that they're out hunting for unsuspecting ships."

"This gut of yours, it always right?"

"For the most part," replied Harry.

"Well," said the Captain, grimacing. "I have a feeling you may be right, but I would like to hope you are very wrong."

"Me too," agreed Harry.

The captain sighed before turning and calling orders to his men to arm themselves. Harry immediately went below decks to inform Merlin of the situation, and to grab is sword. Taking the stairs two at a time, and sprinting the length of the hallway, he got there in less than thirty seconds.

His master, instructor, and the female elf were all sleeping soundly when Harry barged in, rousing them from their slumber. Without any preamble, he detailed the situation to Merlin.

"…so there are around thirty who are armed on that ship I think. Those are all that I felt."

"Hrm," said Merlin. "We will also ready ourselves. Since I know that you are expected to act as one of the crew, I will not keep you any longer."

Hurting from the verbal sting, Harry replied, "I'm sorry for doing this Merlin, but circumstances would not allow peaceful coexistence to happen." He swore he saw Kerin blush at that last statement, but didn't really pay attention, since his mind was more concerned with the upcoming battle.

"I know, my apprentice," said Merlin, a hint of being apologetic in his tone of voice. "Just be careful."

"I will," he said, pulling aside the curtain.

* * *

When he returned to the main deck, all the crew members were armed with some sort of weapon, many with swords, some with bows, and one particularly large sailor was armed with a giant battleaxe.

The captain walked up to Harry and said, "It looks like you are right, even though we kept changing course, the other ship mimicked our adjustments and are still headed towards us. There is no doubt now that they plan to board. Are you ready?"

"Yes," replied Harry, unsheathing his sword. He had been in life and death situations so many times, but he had never experienced the unsettling feeling in his stomach, which signaled nervous anticipation, until now.

For the next hour, the members of the crew watched helplessly as the other ship gained on them, despite the best efforts of the _Merry Heron's _helmsman. Finally, the other ship was close enough that they could make out the individual faces of the brigands from where they were standing.

A red flag was pulled up to the top of the ship, signaling that they would fight if boarded. The other ship responded with a black flag, a sign that they would accept the challenge.

The captain held out his hand, and called out, "Wait for it…wait for it… LOOSE ARROWS, NOW!"

A barrage of arrows arced up above the blue sea water, and landed full force on the enemy boarding party. Most of them had hidden behind large pieces of salvaged wood, which acted as makeshift shields. The arrows cut down a few of their number, but not enough to give a decisive advantage to the _Merry Heron_. There was not enough time for a second barrage, as the other ship had already closed in enough to throw over grappling hooks onto the main deck, effectively tying the ships together. Many of the crew with bladed weapons hurried to cut the lines, but they were not fast enough to get all of them before the ships locked together, allowing the first wave of the enemy to jump aboard.

The fighting was swift and frenzied. At times, Harry was pitted against multiple enemies. There were no rules of engagement, no honor. He had no time to think about not critically injuring any opponents. He slashed left and right, blocked the strikes of enemies, before countering with his own attack. He lost count of the number of people he had fought, and the number of injuries he had sustained. Harry could feel the sweat, or was it blood, trickling down from his forehead, and into his eyes. He couldn't even afford the time to wipe his eyes, only hoping that it wouldn't cause him to make a careless mistake.

He used magic when he could, in very subtle ways, like making enemies trip, or making them lose their grip on sword handles at a critical point. Harry's thought magic was almost rampant now, his adrenaline causing him to cast on an almost subconscious level.

And then _it_ happened. Something he was afraid of. When remembering this event, Harry would find that there was no change in the speed of time. Right now, however, all time seemed to slow down to focus on this single event. Derec was fighting a particularly nasty looking brigand, and was barely holding his own. Harry saw that another enemy was creeping up behind him. If he called out, and Derec turned, he would be immediately killed by the enemy he was currently fighting. On the other hand, if Harry didn't warn him, then he would be struck down from behind.

Concentrating on his magic, Harry enhanced his speed more than he had ever attempted to do before. He could feel the incredible strain that it put on his body, but also the power that it gave to his limbs. In a flash, before his brain had even registered what happened, he was behind the pirate, thrusting his sword point into the space between the other's ribs, piercing his heart, just as Derec dispatched his opponent.

Hearing the sound of a body hitting the floor behind him, Derec turned around and looked into the horror-stricken face of Harry; sword bloodied and still pointed over the hole that it wrenched loose from.

By that point, the crew of the _Merry Heron_ had pretty much come out victorious. The enemy had suffered such casualties that those still alive ran back to their ship, cut the boarding lines, and sailed away as fast as they could.

As for Harry, he still could not believe that he had killed someone. He had _killed_ someone, murdered them. He felt sick. Dropping his sword, he ran to the side of the ship, and retched into the all absorbing ocean. He couldn't believe what he had done, as much as he denied it, he may well on his way to becoming like Voldemort. How could he live with himself after what happened? How could he face his friends if he ever returned home? How could he ever expect to be forgiven for murder?

"Lad," a deep voice, said softly. Harry looked up and saw Derec over him, looking much sadder than he had ever seen him before. He looked upon Harry without any hate at all, pitying the poor boy.

"I take it this is the first time you have killed a man?" Harry nodded. Derec continued, "I know how you feel. I used to be a soldier, a long time ago. I was the guardian of a young and kind lord. I was happy protecting him and his family. But one day, the keep was attacked. I found my liege and his wife dead at the hands of a rival lord. He was approaching their child, Maxim, about to do the same to him as he did to the child's parents. I could not let that happen, all I could think of was protecting the boy. So, I ran the attacker through. It was the first time I had killed someone. After delivering the boy safely to other relatives, I left the life of a soldier. For months, years, afterwards I could not forgive myself for what I had done. _Murderer_, I would call myself. I did not think that I was fit to live. I swore I would never fight, that I would never again take another life. But, one day, an elderly woman was being robbed, and I had to fight once more. As much as I wounded him, or disarmed him, he would not yield. At the end, he ran, pulled out a knife, and grabbed the woman. He still had not yet gotten close enough to use the knife, but I could not reach him in time to stop him if he did. So, I did the only thing I could. I threw my sword. It landed in his head, point first. I had done it again, I had taken another life. And I was about to take my own to reconcile the act that I had just committed. Before I could, though, the woman stopped me and told me, 'Those who fight for evil, and enjoy killing. Yes, they are murderers and deserve to be punished for their crimes. But, those who protect, and who kill when faced with no other alternative. They are heroes, who are only doing what is right.' That changed my life. And I pass on the same to you. You do not kill for fun, for pleasure. You had to, to save _my_ life. Me, who had treated you harshly, who had treated you wrong. You had every reason to let me die there, but instead you didn't. You are not a murderer, and you will not be as long as you are fighting for the right reasons, and killing when it must be done. I owe you my life. Thank you." With that, Derec walked away, leaving Harry to ponder.

* * *

The next few weeks passed without much excitement. With Derec's help, Harry was able to come to terms with what he had done. He realized that he should never be joyous about doing what he did, but he had to realize that there are times when pursuing what is right, that he may be forced to do so again. By the time they finally reached port, he had established a strong friendship with the sailor, and was sad when the time to part came.

"Harry," said Derec coming up to him, after the Captain had congratulated Harry on a job well done. "I wanted to thank you for everything. I wish you a safe journey."

"I should be the one thanking you," said Harry. "I'm glad to have become friends with you."

"Aye," replied Derec, misty eyed. "Same 'ere. And both me and the captain wanted you to know that if you ever get tired of traveling on land, you always have a place with our crew."

Harry smiled, "I would like that. Safe journey Derec."

The two men, once at odds, shook hands in parting as friends.

* * *

Even after procuring horses and having traveled for a few days, things were still not the same among the group. Harry was still not speaking to Kerin. Merlin and Cathal were both unhappy about the whole situation, as well as how Harry had basically cut himself off from them for the past few weeks. They only had a few more weeks of good journey time left before snowfall came, making travel that much more difficult. The group was watering their horses during one of their rest breaks.

"Harry," said Merlin. "We have to talk."

"Yes, Master," replied Harry, not really wanting to have the conversation that he knew was coming.

"Please come over here," Merlin ordered, pointing to a stone next to the one Kerin was sitting in.

The dreaded conversation, however, never occurred. Multiple short armored warriors carrying what looked like very primitive muskets jumped out of the brush. Before any of the party could start a spell, a very short bearded man, wearing golden armor stepped forward and spoke.

"Magi," said the midget. "You are under arrest. Do not try to resist, these weapons have been designed to pierce through magical shields."

"By what authority are you arresting us?" demanded Merlin, eyes blazing.

"By the authority of the Dwarven Council."

* * *

Meanwhile, high in the spire of the Magi Council, sat a hooded figure. The room was dark, lighted only by a single candle. There were no windows. The entire room was bare, save a wood and leather armchair, and a large granite desk. With black gloved hands, the figure unrolled a piece of parchment that had just been placed on his desk.

_By order of the Honorable Darius Grece, second Mage, acting on behalf of the Norhaven High __Council__ of Magi, all citizens of the Magical realm of Azcyadan are hereby required to provide services to aid in the defense of the realm from hostile invaders. Citizens must report to recruitment centers in order to receive their assignments. From this point on, all military authority of local councils are hereby suspended until further notice. Failure to comply with any of these orders will be considered an act of treason against the realm. _

The hooded figure sighed. So, the war had begun. Now, not even his power as first mage could stop the inevitable onslaught that was to occur.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the long wait, here it is… 20 pages in word. Chapter 18 is still in progress, I'm about a third of the way through it. Unfortunately, I'm still having trouble cranking these chapters out as fast as I would like. On the bright side, though, the chapters will be as long as this one, or longer. The plot is beginning to thicken, and Harry will have his place in this struggle soon enough.

Thanks again to Sean, my wonderful beta reader, for going through this monster of a chapter.

And to my awesome readers, who are still continuing to read and review this story.

**Aprun: **Godric and Salazar had to come from somewhere right?

**Jessespeach**: Updated… so please stay sane )

**Korrd: **You'll find the answers to your questions soon enough

**Kaaera:** N: Norhaven )

**Nick: **It's only well written because someone actually tells me my mistakes.. lol

**Coolpadfoot: **I think you were # 200

**Nic'sim87:** Haha… well, this chapter is a cliffhanger… whahahahaha

**Jwillams: **I used the dictionary that the Grey Company has out. (Oh, and that's my disclaimer for using their dictionary.. forgot earlier)

**C. Rose**: Yea… all societies are corrupt though, muggle and magical

**Valkyrie:** (sorry, I'm too lazy to type out the entire name) I can assure you that this "story" will not involve a harry/ginny romance. I cannot promise anything more. And I am an H/G shipper, haha. I think that because JKR has so underdeveloped her, that it gives fanfic authors greater creative leeway with her character.

**KEmperor**: I got my scores back recently, yea… roughness

**SheWho'sNameMustBeHyphanated:** the elves in this time would probably put a few arrows in Hermione.

**Wytil: **sorry, I'm still trying to get myself into law school

**Jess S1:** You'll see next chapter )

**Andais: **No comment? ;-)

**Maxennce:** Is it too late to wish you good luck.

Sorry if I missed some of you, I was trying to get this beta-ed chapter up ASAP ;-)


	18. Captivity

Disclaimer: HP, etc are property of JK Rowling, blah blah blah.

A/N: Just to forewarn everyone, the story has been changed to an 'R' rating.

Chapter 18: Captivity

"For what crimes are we being arrested," contested Merlin, his blue eyes blazing.

The dwarf in the golden armor started laughing, before giving a twisted grin, "You are mages. That is enough of a crime in itself. And as for the elves, we just don't like 'em."

"C'mon cap'n, I really hope that at least one of them tries to resist," said a dwarf on Harry's left, patting his weapon lovingly.

Merlin nodded. "We will go peacefully." He gave Harry a pointed look, telling him that he _would_ do the same.

Harry sighed and slowly released the magic that he had gathered. However, he stashed a small amount in his reserves, just in case.

Dwarves came around and placed metal fetters on their wrists. When the fetters locked into place, Harry felt a strange sensation. For the first time in his life, he couldn't touch his magic. He tried drawing it to him, but there was a barrier in his way. He was so close to it, but it was still out of reach.

"How the mighty have fallen. A little weak without your magic?" one of the dwarves taunted, pointing his weapon at Harry, which caused the rest of the dwarves to laugh. "It would be so easy to end you right here… but where would be the fun in that?"

Instead of discharging his weapon, the dwarf drove the butt of his weapon into Harry's stomach causing him to double over in pain. He was forced to the ground by a kick to the chest, and the heavy musket slammed into his back. Harry knew he could have disarmed and killed his tormentor, and maybe done the same to one more. But he knew he was no match for them all. He saw Merlin already on the ground bleeding, Cathal being used as a punching bag, and Kerin being slapped and punched. This last scene caused Harry to become incensed with anger. Merlin's reasons be damned, Harry thought while trying to rise and stop them. However, upon seeing movement from Harry, his captors struck him on the side of the his head, sending him spiraling into darkness.

* * *

Harry was awoken by a strong breeze blowing in his face. He slowly stirred into consciousness, before trying to open his eyes. Upon regaining vision, his head exploded in pain. It felt as if he had been hit over the head with a sledge hammer.

"_No,_" he thought sarcastically. "_It was a musket_." Closing his eyes, and settling his mind, he tried opening his eyes again. This time he was only met with bright flashes in his field of vision. He could deal with that.

Taking a moment to observe his surroundings, he noticed that he was sitting on a large wooden deck, aboard a ship of some kind and his wrists were chained to a large pole behind him. Kerin was chained to his right, while Merlin and Cathal were chained to another post opposite them. There were only three dwarves guarding the four of them, but there was not much he could do while shackled physically and magically. Harry kept looking around filing every little detail into memory, trying desperately to find a way to escape. It was not a large ship that they were on; there were only the two large masts that they were tied to, an enclosed upper deck that probably housed the steering oar, and one small sail at the front. The placement of the sail seemed strange to Harry, until he noticed an even stranger phenomenon: the comforting sound of the sea was disconcertingly missing. He looked up, trying to find the sun in an effort to figure out where this 'silent sea' was. Instead, he saw a large red and green mass above them, floating above the length of the ship. Then the captured apprentice became aware of the many lines of rigging that were latched onto the floating mass. Suddenly it hit him: they were on a primitive zeppelin!

"_There goes my bright idea of jumping off and swimming to safety_," thought Harry, gloomily. All he could do now was wait and see how this played out.

Half an hour later, he felt Kerin begin to stir. She looked over at him, with fear evident in her blue eyes. Red welts and purple bruises marred her left cheek, along with the remnants of several cuts on her forehead and upper lip. Harry supposed that he looked much the same, if not worse.

Harry knew all too well how cruel some could be, and how pureblooded wizards were bigoted against the muggle-born ones. But for oppressed races to be hated so much by those who were also oppressed was a rude awakening. So he couldn't fathom the reasoning behind the dwarves' seemingly deep seated hatred towards Cathal, and especially Kerin.

He was angry at this irrational hatred, angry at being captured, angry at not being able to fight, angry at his friends being treated so brutally. But what he was most angry about, though he would never admit it to anyone, was the dwarves' treatment of Kerin. Trying to rein in his anger before he did anything stupid, he turned to Kerin and gave her a half smile, hopefully bolstering her spirits.

The guards also noticed that Kerin had finally regained consciousness. After a quick and quiet conference, one of the guards left his weapon with the other and approached the elven girl. He sauntered up to her in an arrogant and what he thought was an imposing manner, even though her head reached his chin while sitting.

"Elf women," he spat. "Are much uglier than dwarven women, and much less desirable. They are only good for one thing. Do you know what that thing is?"

Kerin remained silent, irritating the guard. "Answer me bitch!" The guard slapped her hard, with the back of his hand. She still remained silent, and glared at him defiantly with her cool blue gaze. Becoming aggravated that his intimidation was not working, along with the sniggering of the two other guards, he grabbed her jaw and kissed her. Now she began struggling in earnest, trying to turn her head to escape the dwarf's probing tongue, but to no avail. His armored hand kept her head in that position.

The guard eventually pulled back, and asked, "Not so high and mighty now, are you? Just like a bar wench, or maybe a painted lady eh?" Kerin still remained silent with her head held up high.

Throughout the entire scene, Harry was about to kill the guard. His green eyes burned with intensity. Anger and even worse, hatred, began to build within him. As the violation of Kerin continued, his hatred burned as hot as the sun's flames. He was beginning to feel the want, no… the _need_ to kill such a being.

"Still don't know your place do you," sneered the dwarf. "Maybe this will teach it to you." He began to slide his hand under her tunic, moving down slowly from her neck. She began to shake and whimper. His cold armored hand kept moving slowly down. "Did you say something?"

"Stop," she whispered.

"I still can't hear you," laughed the guard. "You'll have to ask… politely."

"Please stop," she said quietly.

"I still can't hear a thing," said the guard, continuing the descent of his hand. "Maybe if you referred to me as 'master'." The other guards began to laugh, as she quietly sobbed.

Harry, on the other hand, was filled with a murderous rage. He had never felt so much hate in his life. The hate he held for this guard went beyond Bellatrix, beyond Voldemort. His anger began to boil over. Rational thought was overwhelmed by an irresistible compulsion to kill. If the guard were paying attention to Harry, he would have noticed the small sparks rippling on Harry's skin, or the normally intense green eyes begin to glow. But he did not notice Harry, and continued along in his torture of the elf.

"No," Kerin begged, defeated. Blue eyes desperately pleading for help.

This last cry sent Harry over the edge. Hot anger coursed through his blood stream, extreme hatred ripped through the barrier that kept him from his magic. A tremendous amount of energy flowed into him, but it was guided by hate rather than any other form of concentration. Extreme winds swirled around them ripping at skin and clothing, while ice cold rain froze them to their very bones. A strong current of wind was driven into the dwarf guard's midsection, lifting him into the air and off the airship. It would not matter even if he was able to land safely, for Kerin's tormentor was cleanly sliced into two, rendering him lifeless, upon the wind's initial assault. Bolts of lightning charred the two remaining guards, and brought down another two who had come out from the lower decks, before a lucky dwarf was able to smash the pommel of his sword into the back of Harry's head, sending him into the peaceful abyss of darkness once more.

* * *

Harry was rudely and painfully jolted from the blackness of unconsciousness. Pain wracked his body before he could even open his eyes. He felt as if his side was on fire, which upon regaining his vision wasn't far from the truth. Harry was suspended from the ceiling, hanging by his arms. His tunic had been torn off, and his pants were ripped in several places.

He was in a windowless room, without a source of light, only allowing him to make out a dwarf who was standing in front of him. The dwarf was wearing dark blue robes, with a golden corded overtunic, which dragged on the floor. His hair was a copper color with streaks of silver. And like most dwarfs, he had long hair, and a long beard. A weapon was absent from the dwarf's belt, indicating that he was either confident of his fighting abilities, or was a bag of wind, who could only deal with chained aggressors. Harry guessed the dwarf was the latter.

"Ah," said the dwarf, with a malicious gleam in his eye. "You are finally awake, I see. If you will be so _kind_ to answer a few questions?" With a slight nod, another dwarf came out with a red hot poker, and shoved it into Harry's side. He screamed.

"And of course," continued the dwarf. "This will insure your cooperation and 'truthfulness'." The poker was forced onto Harry again to emphasize the point.

"Who are you?"

"Harry Potter."

"What is your rank?"

"I don't have one…. ARRRGH…" The poker was moved to his other side this time.

"Let me rephrase the question: are you a battle mage?"

"No." This time a metal spike was driven through his right shoulder, shattering his bones, and ripping his muscles. He bit his tongue to stop from crying out in pain again, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of hearing his screams again.

"Wrong answer. Now, let me ask you again, are you a battle mage?"

"Yes." No pain accompanied this answer.

The session went on for hours, which felt like weeks for Harry. Most conceivable forms of causing physical pain were used, for each 'incorrect' response. Among which his torturers particularly liked stabbing, cutting, branding, impalement, lashings, and punching.

Unfortunately, each time he learned to adjust to the pain and accustom himself to the smell of burnt flesh, or the tangy, metallic taste of blood, a healer would come and fix his wounds. This allowed for his dwarven torturers to continuously administer pain, without the fear that Harry's body would shut down before they were done questioning him.

Harry's vision was swimming in and out during the last question. They had been forced to heal him seven times already due to his refusal to give an answer that his torturers found acceptable. After the seventh healing, Harry could not muster enough willpower to continue, so the next time they asked, he would be forced to give them the answer that they wanted to hear, no matter how much he wanted to say otherwise.

"Let's see if you can get it right this time," snarled the dwarf. "Are you a murderer?"

Harry hung his head in defeat, forced to answer, "Yes."

"Take him down," ordered the blue robed dwarf. The chains binding Harry were loosened, and he fell to the floor; his legs crumpling under him, unable to support his weight. The last thing he saw was the healer standing over him, muttering a spell, before the cool darkness of nothingness claimed him once more.

* * *

Harry woke up again, thinking that the whole blacking out business had to stop. This time, however, he woke up in a very comfortable position, reclining on something very warm and soft. He looked down and saw two very slim arms draped across his chest, and looking up he saw the sleeping face of Kerin, which meant he was sleeping on…

"_Uh oh…_" he thought to himself. He quickly scrambled to get up, but only succeeded in falling over, face first where the back of his head was just lying moments before, waking the elf girl up. He was successful the second time he tried scrambling up, though falling ungracefully on his bottom. It was a good thing these prison cells, or what he assumed to be cells, were poorly lit, since Harry could feel red creeping up his face. Luckily for Kerin, her blush was also hidden in the dimness.

"Are you…" He was scared to ask. "Are you okay? Did they torture you too?"

"No," she said softly. "They left us alone after taking you."

"Good," he replied. She scooted closer to him. Harry could see her red eyes and tear streaked face.

"I'm sorry for…" Harry held up his hand.

"I forgive you," he said. "I was angry before, but everything's fine now."

"I was scared when they took you. I have never been that scared in my life," she sobbed, throwing her arms around him, and burying her face in his shoulder. Harry awkwardly put his arms around her, and started rubbing his palms in circles on her back trying to give her some comfort.

"It's alright. I'm here now," he said quietly. They held each other for a while like that. Harry was quite comfortable with Kerin in his arms.

Eventually, she pulled back a little and told him, "You really are different."

"You have no idea," he said. She gave him an inquisitive glance.

"Well, first off, I'm not really from this time…" Harry told her of Voldemort killing his parents when he was a child, life on Privet Drive, the Sorcerer's Stone, slaying the Basilisk, Voldemort's resurrection, Sirius. He choked when he thought of Sirius; it seemed like a different lifetime since he last thought of his late godfather. He would have stopped, but he got the courage to continue after looking into Kerin's unquestioning blue eyes. He told her of the fight at the Department of Mysteries, the Prophecy, and the Killing Curse being performed, which transported him to this time.

"So there are no elves in your time?"

"Well there are house elves. They're very small, with big floppy ears, and large eyes. Oh, and they also clean up after the students," Harry said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Harry Potter, if you think that I would ever clean up for you…" Harry stopped her from finishing the sentence. In hindsight, he would not be able to explain what came over him at the moment; moreover, what made him overlook the risk of a possibly deadly reprisal from the female elf. But instinct had always served him well in the past, saving him on numerous occasions. So, he followed his instinct, and covered her mouth with his own.

At first she did not respond, and Harry was afraid that he would soon meet his demise. He did not need to worry, however, as she soon was kissing him back with equal fervor, wrapping her arms around his neck, and pulling him down deepening the kiss. Eventually they came up for air and found that they had somehow gotten into a horizontal position with Harry on top. Kerin's blue eyes gazed happily into Harry's green ones.

"What were you saying earlier," teased Harry.

"I forget," replied Kerin, pulling him down for what promised to be another long kiss.

Hours later, found Harry's arms around Kerin, who was snuggled against his chest. He was quite content for someone who was leaning against a cold stone dungeon wall.

"So, what's your story?" asked Harry.

"Mmmh," mumbled the elven girl. Raising her head, she said, "I figured you would eventually ask about that. I take it I can't get out of it by saying that it's a long story?"

"Nope," Harry replied, grinning.

"Oh, alright," she huffed, with exaggerated exasperation. "I suppose the answer to your question of why _I_ can do magic starts with Meloria, a priestess from the city of _ed'Korda_. She was foolish because she dared to fall in love with a lieutenant in the guard named Astald. They had conceived a child, which was forbidden by temple edict, so they were forced to flee. The couple feared for their child, and what would happen if they were discovered. Astald, remembering his father's tales, brought her to a clearing in the forest said to be almost as old as the elves themselves. Legend says that the forest was imbued with great magic given by nature and did not like changes to the natural order, thus denied entry of outside magics. 'Here', he thought. 'They would be able to escape the tracking spells of their possible pursuers.' So, the child, en'Marth, was born in the clearing, free from magic. He was the first of the elves, since the binding, to also be free of Norhaven's control. Many other children would follow. The children of the leith'in, or free-born, were also free from the control of the city of Mages. en'Marth, a great and respected warrior, led the elves away from the known Elven cities and formed the secret city of _vanimdole'ndor_. We have spirited away many of the texts and enchanted weapons of the old cities, so that they do not fall into the wrong hands. It is in _vanimdole'ndor_ that the hope for the future of our kind rests. One day we will be completely free of the yoke of oppression placed on us."

"And you're worried because the soldiers of order don't discriminate who they slaughter, as long as they're believed to possess 'magic'?" Harry asked.

"Yes," she said quietly. He held her tighter, as they sat in silence. Harry would not realize until later that Kerin had successfully avoided mentioning _her_ past.

* * *

The stillness and silence was disturbed by the dungeon door being flung open. Rough hands grabbed Harry, forcefully separating him from Kerin, before they were dragged through the opening. The brightness of the torch-lit corridor temporarily blinded Harry, who could only squint in an effort to make out his surroundings.

The cold stone corridors that they had to travel through were like a maze, an endless array of identical tunnels and stairways. Escape in this labyrinth seemed to be an impossibility, at least for the moment. Soon they came to a 'Y' intersection and Harry was separated from Kerin. He started to struggle, but one of the guards pushed a sharp battleaxe to his neck, silently reminding him of the consequences of not cooperating.

Harry was finally hurled into another cell, landing rather painfully. The door clanged shut behind him. Looking around, he noticed that on the opposite side of the entryway he was just shoved through, there was only a wall of straight iron bars that one would find in a modern jail cell.

"_Only iron bars_," he thought sardonically. "_Come on Potter, you still can't get through iron bars. It's no better!_"

Suddenly, a few of the bars began sliding down, into the ground forming an opening. Harry was unsure if he should step through or not, but then again, did he have any choice? He gingerly stepped through the opening. Once he was through, the iron bars shot up once again, barring his way back into the previous cell. Previously unlit torches now flared up, bathing the room in a soft, yet ominous, light. Part of the stone wall on Harry's right slid open, revealing shelves with an assortment of weaponry.

"Choose your weapon," ordered a booming voice. Harry looked around in confusion, trying to identify who in the room was talking to him. When he couldn't find anyone, he decided to just play along until he could. He chose a sword which most closely resembled the long sword that he had been trained with. As soon as he picked up the sword, the hidden chamber closed up once again. For a brief moment the room was silent, and then the noisy cranking of gears could be heard. What Harry had, again, mistakenly thought to be a wall, turned out, to be two large stone doors, which were now opening outwards.

"Exit through the opening," the voice stated again, in a tone demanding obedience.

He walked though the opening and into an enormous arena. The surroundings reminded him of a Roman coliseum. The ground was composed of hard packed sand and clay. A high stone wall surrounded the open area, with many levels of benches set above the wall, filled with jeering dwarfs. Even prisoners were present. He was relieved to see Cathal, Merlin, and Kerin among them unharmed. Guards dressed in copper and silver armor, holding the musket like weapons, were arrayed around the top of the walls. On the left side of the arena, multiple ostentatious looking chairs were placed on either side of a stone dais, raised many levels above the wall. Unknown runes were carved into the front face of the raised platform. Standing on the dais was the same blue robed dwarf who had tortured him earlier.

"_What I wouldn't give to summon one lighting bolt_," thought Harry, gleefully imagining what that one dwarf would look like charred.

The doors across from him also opened, revealing a figure holding a large battleaxe. The short and blocky figure wore only tattered pants, which were ripped off below the knees. His shirtless, dirt covered arms and torso were muscular, and looked like they would have no problems snapping Harry in two. He had no hair, a high forehead, and a long pointy nose. Harry could tell that he was not quite dwarven, but also something else, something familiar…

Before he could ponder the situation any further, the dwarf on the dais began to speak, "Fellow citizens, we are assembled here today to see justice served. We are here to bring punishment onto these two deluded souls, who believed themselves to be above reproach from Dwarven Law."

"The half-dwarf, half-goblin, Amagon," the speaker venomously said. "Has confessed to committing treason, by inciting rebellion among the goblin population of the Dwarven Empire."

"While the magi, Harry Potter, has confessed to the most heinous crime of murder of one of our own. In cold blood, he used his spells to disembowel Ferian, a loyal servant of the Empire. For these crimes, both would have surely have been executed. But we are not barbarians like these two…" The crowd cheered.

"_No, you're worse_," Harry thought.

The dwarf continued, "We are civilized, and merciful. So, we will give one of them a chance by acting like the barbarians they are to regain their freedom. They will fight, to the death. The loser will be executed by the hands of another criminal, and the winner will be exiled from our realm. A fair punishment." He bowed and stepped down from the dais, taking one of the seats next to it.

A dwarf adorned in golden chainmail and a blue cape stepped up onto the dais. "BEGIN," he commanded.

Both opponents started circling each other, but neither started moving closer. That worried Harry, since only the skilled or fearful opponents did not immediately move in. Harry suspected that the half-goblin, half-dwarf was not the latter. His mind immediately ran through and disregarding strategies. His opponent was well muscled in his upper body, but that might constrain his speed, whereas Harry's build still allowed for greater agility. The battleaxe has a longer reach than his sword, and couldn't be blocked directly. It was more powerful, but slower, even with his opponent's strength. Also, the axe couldn't be used in close quarters since its attack power came from using long swings and its use as a staff was limited due to the inadequate balance of the heavier axe head. So, Harry quickly decided that he would just have to count on darting in and out to make his attacks, keeping in ranges which his opponent would have trouble attacking. Or at least he hoped his opponent would have trouble attacking in those ranges.

The first strike came as a feint to Harry's right, and a downwards swing to his left. He parried the larger blade of the axe, sliding it downwards along his weapon. However, he did not have enough time to counterattack before his opponent brought the axe up in a vicious swipe to Harry's midsection. He jumped back just in time to avoid being sliced open.

The two opponents started circling again, looking for another opening. Harry could hear the excitement of the crowd, the cheering for blood and the jeering that none had yet been spilled. He could not afford to be distracted. Grasping the sword tighter, he moved in, stepping forwards with his left foot, appearing to lunge. Amagon slightly lowered the axe to meet the attack, and Harry switched feet trying for a slash to his opponent's exposed side. The half-dwarf was fast though, moving his right foot back, while positioning his weapon to meet Harry's sword. The momentum of the previous attack was used to follow up with a roundhouse kick to Amagon's temple. Harry felt the successful contact, as his boot was driven into the other's head.

He continued the attack, never letting his opponent move back onto the offensive. Using a combination of sword, fists, legs, elbows, and knees, he began to wear down his adversary. Finally, the relentless assault by Harry caused Amagon to drop to his knees. His axe fell from his hands. He looked up at Harry, as a warrior tired of fighting, awaiting the serenity of death.

With his sword held high, in a reverse grip, point downwards, Harry could feel once again the power of life and death that he held. It was an amazing power, he had felt it when he had used his powers against Kor, when he had killed the dwarven guard, and now as he was about to deliver the death stroke to another opponent. He had never before had the chance to savor this moment, this… triumph. The madness of bloodlust swam in his emerald green eyes, his lips twisted into a feral grin, and the point of the sword began to lower.

But then, from that place in the deep recesses of his mind, a small voice shouted, "_NO!_" Harry wavered, doubt began to form, cracking the shield of certainty that he had put up. This was different from before, he was not exercising his power of life and death for selfless reasons. He was now doing it for perverse personal pleasure. He was no better than Bellatrix or Voldemort if he continued. Shuddering, he faintly heard the calls to show no mercy to his opponent, the cheers of blood about to be spilt, and he recognized that this… _this_ kind of killing had no justification, this would be murder.

He dropped his sword. The sound of the metal hitting the soft clay of the ground was like a thunderclap in the silence that ensued. Amagon looked up in relief, and confusion.

"YOU WILL CONTINUE FIGHTING!" screamed the blue robed dwarf, becoming red in the face.

Harry turned to him and simply said, "No. We will no longer fight for your pleasure. It is over."

"Then your original punishment still stands. Guards, execute them." Pointing his finger to Harry and Amagon.

Guards around the arena leveled their weapons at the two figures standing in the middle of the arena. Harry's blood began to boil. This was not fair; they were being executed on false confessions. Anger coursed once again through him, this time though, he fueled it, remembering that he could pass through the barriers placed upon him if he got angry enough. He stoked the flames of hatred by remembering the torture that they had visited upon him, the feel of a knife sliding through his ribs, or the smell of burning flesh. Wind began to swirl around him, and sparks of energy could be seen jumping from place to place on his skin. He continued to add to the images, to the anger, to the hate. Pure energy blasted the fetters off of his wrists, and the magical energy around him was once again his to command.

A ring of white light, purple along the edges, burst forth from Harry, traveling over the entire arena. All the armed guards who were touched by the light were disarmed and forcibly thrown twenty feet. There were many groans of pain from the guards, but none posed a threat any longer.

The haughty blue- robed dwarf began to look around wildly, his eyes full of fear. Harry grinned, knowing that he would enjoy this, even if he shouldn't. He raised his right hand, and three bolts of lighting shot outwards from the palm of his hand. The bolts struck the arrogant dwarf, leaving only two legs supporting a blackened stump.

Seeing the fate which befell the haughty dwarf, the spectators panicked and ran to escape. They began clawing and shoving, trampling those who fell. Harry saw that Merlin had subdued their guards, and was motioning for him to join them.

He grabbed the still stunned half-dwarf up by his arm, saying, "We need to get out of here." Amagon nodded and followed. Harry used a levitation spell to get Amagon onto the wall, and then followed by using a magically assisted leap. The two ran up to where the others were waiting, no one daring to get in their way.

"Any bright ideas on how to get out of here," asked Cathal, looking around warily, hefting one of the dwarven muskets.

"The Zeppelins," Amagon volunteered breathlessly. "I can fly us to my father's fortress. We'll be safe there."

Harry eyed him speculatively. Amagon said, "I assure you it is safe, you will be under my protection, no harm will befall you or your friends. This I swear." Harry nodded.

The five moved carefully through the tunnels of the city, making haste, but also treading cautiously. The entrance to the zeppelin hangar was guarded by two dwarven guards carrying pikes and shields. Harry, Amagon, and Kerin rushed the left one, while Merlin and Cathal made short work of the other.

Inside were six zeppelins arranged in two rows of three. Each zeppelin was secured on a dry dock type platform with a deflated bag above it, except in the second row. That zeppelin was merely tied down. The hangar itself was a large cavernous space, with solid rock walls, rising far above their heads. It looked like they were standing on the inside of a mountain, which from the rest of the city's appearance, Harry guessed would not be far from the truth.

They headed for the ready- to- fly zeppelin, and after making sure that they heard no one onboard, they quickly climbed up the rope ladder that had been left dangling on the starboard side. Harry scanned the ship using his senses, making certain that there was no one on the ship. Then for a moment, he once again saw things in that strange type of vision before blinking and returning his sight to normal.

"The lines need to be cut," called Amagon over his shoulder, heading for the navigation deck followed by Merlin.

Harry, Cathal, and Kerin set about cutting the lines as fast as they could. When the last line was cut, the ship began to slowly rise. When they had risen about thirty feet into the air, shouts could be heard below them from angry dwarves. Fortunately, they were unarmed, unable to simply shoot the zeppelin down. Harry heard the rumbling of the propellers starting. Soon, they were moving through the hangar opening and into the freedom of the clear blue sky.

* * *

Harry was sitting on the foredeck, leaning against the mast, with Kerin asleep in his arms, snuggling against him. The only sound breaking the silence was the rustle of canvas, as the wind blew against now furled sails, since the ship was beginning its descent. It was night now. The stars shone brightly above them, an arrangement of chaotic yet orderly tiny pinpricks of light. He had never taken time to appreciate their beauty before, even with five years of Astronomy classes. There always seemed to be something more important to think of at the time than the simple and elegant magnificence of the universe. But now, even though they were on the run from both the dwarves and the soldiers of order, and he was stranded in a time hundreds of years before his birth, life never seemed so perfect.

Cathal walked over, enjoying the soft and cool breeze that was blowing, when he saw Kerin and Harry. He looked them over once, and gave Harry a knowing smirk. If his hands were free, Harry would have given him a rude gesture in return.

He felt the ship make contact with the ground a few minutes later. He was loathe to let the elf out of his embrace, but he knew that he had to. So, to wake her, Harry gave her a gentle kiss. Without opening her eyes, she snaked her arms around his neck and began kissing back much more forcefully. He began to respond when the sound of clapping and whistles began. The pair broke apart immediately; both with red creeping up their faces.

"Ok, I guess we're here huh?" asked Harry, standing up and desperately trying to change the subject.

"Not that you would have noticed lad," Cathal boomed. "Haven't you ever heard the saying, 'once you go elf…'"

"Cathal, stop!" ordered the elf girl, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Harry's right, we should go."

The three older men just exchanged knowing glances before leading the way off the ship.

"The fortress is this way," said Amagon. "I landed us as close as possible, but I do not know if the sentries know that we…" Before he could finish, a soft purple light sprang into existence, stopping any of the party from moving.

"Not again," Harry thought. With his reserves already gathered, he was about to use his powers to cut loose from the spell, when he noticed the ones who had entrapped them. There were five of them standing in the shadows, chanting with their hands upraised. As they continued to move closer, Harry could tell that they were all about the same height as the dwarves, and wearing long robes. Then light was conjured, and the area was suffused with light.

Harry's eyes widened in recognition, he had seen such beings before, working in the wizarding bank in Diagon Alley. These were goblins!

"Why do you trespass on our lands magi," snarled the goblin facing Harry, pointing its long thin finger at him. "Are you here to enslave us again?" Harry tried to shake his head in denial, but his muscles wouldn't respond.

He heard one of the goblins squeak in surprise. A goblin quickly ran up to the one speaking to Harry, most likely the one who had made the commotion. The goblin whispered against the other's ear, Harry extended his senses and tried to listen to what they were saying.

"… It's him…"

"… can't be… captured…"

"… It is, I recognize him…"

"… are you sure?"

"… yes…"

The two quickly ran out of Harry's field of vision. He heard another exclamation of astonishment, and the spell was lifted from them. He turned to see the goblins kneeling in front of their guide, while he was subtly but insistently motioning for them to rise.

"My lord Amagon," said the goblin who had been speaking to Harry. "We have been searching for weeks trying to find you. Your father will be very happy to hear that you have returned safely."

* * *

To say that Amagon's father was happy to see his son returned would have been an understatement. The ruler had grabbed his son in an embrace, so relieved that he almost crushed the younger half dwarf. After much hugging and back thumping, he had announced that there would be a feast in honor of their safe escape.

Harry was seated to the left of Amagon's father, resplendent in robes made of gold and silver cloth. Along the table the others were also similarly attired. The feast took place in an underground banquet hall, lighted by hundreds of torches set along the sides of the domed ceiling. The hall was surrounded by massive stone pillars. The walls were sanded and polished so much that they were smooth to the touch.

He tried to participate in a few conversations, but could not since he was ravenous due to the treatment given by the Dwarves. Harry would have felt guilty for holding a turkey thigh in one hand and a half loaf of bread in the other, if he had not seen Cathal and Amagon doing the same. Two sets of blue eyes twinkled merrily, as Merlin and Kerin were being amused by the spectacle caused by the three warriors.

Soon, only bones and crumbs remained from the feast. Harry slowly sipped at the cool bitter ale that was provided, and decided that he liked it. He slouched, sated, as he watched the servers clear away some of the tables to make room for dancing. Goblin couples dressed in vivid outfits began to congregate on the dance floor, tapping and twirling to the music.

Amagon was approached by a female goblin, and blushing agreed to dance. Harry just waved at him, smirking. Once Amagon was out of ear-shot, the ruler turned to speak with him.

"You have saved my son's life, for this I owe you a debt that I do not think can ever be repaid. I will provide you with anything you wish young warrior," Amagon's father said solemnly.

"I do not need or want anything. I thank you for the offer, but seeing Amagon free is reward enough," Harry replied.

"If you ever need anything, anything at all, and I, Elias Gringott, will come to your aid," said the older goblin, clasping Harry's hand.

Harry nodded solemnly, having the dreadful feeling that the day was coming where he would be in need of all his allies.

* * *

_The hot summer sun shone down upon the field. The music of bird song was in the air. Harry found himself celebrating his birthday sitting beneath a large oak tree, enjoying the shade cast by the protruding branches and thick mane of green leaves. He looked down at his hand. In his right, he was holding a knife, whittling away at a piece of wood held in the other. The carving resembled the form of a female face; a face that seemed familiar, but one he could not fully recall. All he knew was that he had been working since the end of morning lessons under the protective canopy of the ancient oak. There were no longer afternoon lessons with the tutor since his "brother" now had training with the local knight. _

_At the age of eight, he was not of the same stature as the other children in the area, so he was not allowed to participate in the training. Even though he looked frail, he was by no means unhealthy. His adopted father always made sure that he was well cared for, even if he was not treated exactly the same as his father's blood related son. Lacking friends, he became a solitary child, always staring off blankly into space, dreaming of action and adventure in far away lands. _

_He envied his adopted brother. Keith, or Kei as he was often called, was only a few months older than Harry, but he was large and much more popular with the other children. When they were younger, the two were friends and inseparable. Once Kei started outgrowing Harry, however, a wedge was driven between the two brothers. It wasn't that his brother bullied him, but Harry was often ignored. He often found himself wishing that things could go back to the way they were. But, he knew that that was a child's thought, and __today he turned the very grown up age of eight. He promised to act like the knights in the stories. He would pretend that it did not bother him, that it was okay that people didn't remember his birthday; he would be indifferent. And so, that was how he found himself out under the tree this afternoon, trying to work with a piece of wood in order to forget about his troubles. _

_Finally, growing frustrated at not being able to remember the details of the face, he threw the carved piece flying into the nearby pond. He stood up and headed for the kitchen, where he knew dirty dishes would await his arrival. As he was walking towards the keep, wind blew around him, chilling him to the bone, despite the fact that it was a hot day. The world around him began to darken, as the hairs on the back of his neck rose. Rubbing his palms over his arms in order to generate some warmth, Harry started to walk faster knowing that he would be safe once he reached the keep. The surrounding area was blanketed in so much darkness that he did not notice the small protruding rock that was in front of his right foot. Harry fell to the ground hard, tears coming to his eyes from the pain in his ankle. _

_A silver mist began to grow in front of Harry. The free floating mist began to take the shape of a woman, the woman whose face Harry had just been carving. He was too stunned and scared to move a single muscle. The form in front of him was beautiful, long silky hair, pale unblemished complexion, cute nose, and full lips. She wore a gown that must have been woven silver and silk. But her eyes, her perfect almond shaped eyes glowed brightly with an unearthly maliciousness that overshadowed her other qualities. _

_"My Draconis," said the woman in a musical voice. _

_"What," squeaked a frightened Harry. "I am not a Dak-on-is. My name is…"_

_"Silence," commanded the woman. "Today is a very special day for you. Today you come into your birthright."_

_"Too long has the last line been weak. But you, you will be strong, and you will be mine!" _

_She chanted:_

_"For the last son of a dead line_

_Will emerge both a champion and a fool._

_And with his end, chaos will reign_

_A thousand years until the scion is born._

_With his powers mature,_

_The scion of prophecy_

_Shall decide the world's fate."_

_She reached out her hand, claw like, for Harry. "I will not be denied my right." _

_Suddenly a bright light burst out, cutting through the darkness like a scythe. The last thing he heard before he passed out were the screams of the woman calling out, "You cannot protect him forever. He will be mine!"_

Harry awoke with a start. He looked around for the woman, but he was alone. He remembered that he was placed in one of the guest rooms in the goblin underground fortress. He put his feet on the cold stone floor, padding carefully over to the wash basin to splash some water on his face.

As he got back into bed, pulling the covers over himself, he thought about the dream he just had. It could not have been a nightmare, since he could remember almost every detail of the dream.

"_Could it have been a memory?_" He thought to himself. He remembered being able to see through Voldemort's eyes on numerous occasions. Could he have done this with another person? That couldn't have been what happened, though. The only reason he could do that with Riddle was because of the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. There had to be another explanation. He resolved that he would ask Merlin about it when he got a chance. Harry forced his thoughts away from thinking about it, so that he could sleep. Imagining steel walls coming up around his mind, Harry quickly ran though the exercises that Merlin taught on how to ward off psychic attacks. Satisfied that his mental defenses were secure from outside intrusion, he set off to get some sleep before Cathal came to wake him up.

* * *

After a good dawn breakfast, Harry, Merlin, Cathal, and Kerin were taken down far beneath the living areas of the city. Many stairs later, they were in a small cavern, with a familiar looking mode of transportation in front of them.

Sitting on a track were two carts with four seats each. The carts were almost identical to the ones used in the wizarding bank from Harry's time.

"_Then again,_" thought Harry. "_Elias or Amagon may eventually be the founder of Gringott's bank in Diagon Alley._"

"The carts were my father's idea," explained Amagon proudly, while they got into the carts. "They allow us to move about a large area without being seen, and provide a good escape route if our city was ever discovered. The carts run on a combination of oil and goblin magic. And since goblin magic can only be used by goblins, the risk of the carts being used by those unsavory types is lowered."

"Hold on, here we go!" called Amagon, waving his hand over some lights, causing the carts to begin rapidly accelerating.

Harry had been on goblin carts before, so he was used to the sharp twists and turns at high speeds that were characteristic to this mode of travel. Poor Cathal, on the other hand, was looking decidedly green. Their trip was much longer and covered more distance than Harry had realized was possible. The carts still were able to get them to their destination much quicker than by horseback though. Slowing down around mid-morning, they finally arrived at what Harry assumed was their destination.

"We're here," announced Amagon, hopping out of the cart. He touched a panel on the cavern wall and a stairway rose from the ground, leading to an opening that had just appeared in the ceiling. "The elven city is only a day's journey from here."

"Thank you Amagon," said Kerin, bending down and kissing his forehead. "We could not have made the long journey in so short a time without you."

Amagon blushed replying, "It was nothing, I owe all of you my freedom and my life."

Harry was the last to ascend the staircase. He clasped hands with the half-goblin, sharing a look of mutual respect. He nodded and stepped into the bright sunlight of the surface world.

* * *

Dust and ash rained down upon Gregor Slytherin as he silently made his way through the recently destroyed town of Krillian. This marked the third Azcyadan city that was attacked in the past week. Even with the recent call to arms, the forces were still not enough to stop these invaders.

"Of course," whispered Gregor to himself. "The Norhaven army could easily repel one of the invasion forces." But he knew that the bureaucrats were too worried about protecting their own arses to commit such a large force to the defense of the numerous towns and cities of the realm. As a result, the local forces were easily overwhelmed. Norhaven's only response to the pleas for help was to send him here to 'investigate' why the non-magic using invaders could see through the wards.

Wrapping his invisibility cloak tighter around himself, he walked past the sentries, and into the enemy encampment. Even though he had strict orders to only observe, Gregor couldn't help but leave a few "surprises" for the black armored enemy. With a few flicks of his wand, several buckets of concealed blasting powder appeared around the camp, set to go off in a few hours time.

He still had not found anything by the time he approached the commander's tent. The dragonrider could hear voices in the tent, but had to wait for an orderly to uncover the tent flap before he could enter, so as not to arouse suspicion. Once inside, he flattened himself against a corner to listen, but remained out of the way.

"… we only lost one modified trebuchet from the attack. All equipment has been packed up and we are ready to move."

The man who had his back to Gregor nodded. "Lieutenant, are your men ready?"

"Sir, the men are tired. They have been fighting non-stop for months. They need to rest." The man punched the Lieutenant's face, sending him to the ground.

"We can not rest until the heretics have been exterminated. Now, I will ask you once again, are your men ready?"

The Lieutenant got up, wiped the blood from his mouth, replying "Yes sir, they are ready."

"Good," said the man, turning to the table. "These are the new targets…"

When he turned around, Gregor was finally able to get a good look at him. He was large; around six foot two, with burly shoulders supporting the black and silver armor. He had graying hair, a square jaw, and a sharp nose. However, his eyes were not normal. They were a deep blue and were madly swiveling in their sockets. Gregor realized how the Commander could see past their wards. His eyes had somehow been replaced with magical ones. And they were staring straight at him.

"CONCEALMENT," the commander yelled, drawing his sword. "GUARDS, SECURE THE TENT!"

Gregor bolted. He ducked as a blade barely missed his head by a scant hair's breadth, while running for the exit. Once safe in the forest, he activated the blasting powder, knowing that they now were at risk of discovery and made his way back to his dragon and Norhaven.

* * *

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out; I've been trying to figure how to integrate all the concepts and plotlines together cohesively. It should be another chapter or two before the war really gets going.

Thanks for reading Sean, and I promise the plot line will become "un-fuzzy" in a little bit.

And to all my readers, I'm glad you still like it. Oh, and reviews are always a good incentive to keep me writing. Maybe even a sequel ;-)

**Dark Lord Lorak: **I love a good super-Harry story (Ruskbyte or Joe in particular), but don't worry this won't turn into one. I find that ultimate power instantly might kill off ol' Voldie in less than one page.

**Linky2: **After this chapter, nothing. They were put in there as a social commentary to the state of the magical realm. They're across the English Channel, so they shouldn't be that much of a bother.

**Dumbledore: **Haha, get me an internship at one of these stupid iBanks and then we'll talk about quicker updates )

**Coro**Only the first hit's free, no j/k.

**Raziel**** Tepes:** There's not much on his father actually. There's some debate on him being a child of the fairie king Oberon. I've also heard that he has no Earthly father and was conceived by magic. T.A. Barron, in the lost years of Merlin, briefly mentioned his father, but I can't remember the specific details. Something about him turning evil.

**Beast210: **Remember, there are different lines of good and bad. Sorry for being so cryptic, but it will be explained in later chapters.

**Dana: **Yea, I used to practice TKD (up until January). I've since switched over to some other martial arts though.

**DragonFoxx** cough sequel cough. My sister forbade me to kill off Harry P

**Moodyboy**See above comment )

**Pleione**I'll be honest, the rest of the story, and all his experiences will take place in the past. This story and my next will become AU long before they are finished. Harry will be a very different character upon his return though.

**Kaaera** That was the first mage.


	19. The City of Vanimdole'ndor

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, but I do own the ideas and plot line.

Chapter 19: The City of _Vanimdole'ndor_

After traveling for so long beneath the earth, Harry thought his eyes were playing tricks on him when he first saw his surroundings. He couldn't believe that they were still in England. Trees that must have been taller than the skyscrapers of London rose up around him. Each would have supplied England with all her lumber needs for an entire year. He idly wondered what could have happened to result in their eventual extinction.

Even though they were supposed to be in 'safe' territory, Cathal had still been insistent on having an advance scout and a rear guard. So, without the skill to do either, he found himself in the middle of the configuration, walking side by side with Merlin, while the other two took up positions behind and in front of them. He knew that he would rather be doing other things, but he understood the need for precaution.

Harry knew that he was supposed to be keeping both his eyes and senses alert, but the serenity of this forest kept his mind on other things instead of focusing on the task at hand. He had found that his eyes were beginning to act as they had previously on their trip over the sea. He could 'see' what he termed as _auras_. It felt as if these _auras_ were the magical energies that surrounded everything, though he couldn't be sure since no actual magic had been performed when his sight was like this. Harry could not figure out how to turn it on or off at will, however, and was content to work on that particular skill later, while letting his mind wonder to another, more pleasant, topic.

The topic of his thoughts was blonde and had just dashed back into the brush to see if there were any dangers ahead of them. Harry did not know what to make of the situation. It was a great feeling being around the elven girl, almost intoxicating. His mind kept thinking about her, how the strands of her hair fell on her face, how nice she felt in his arms, etc. In his mind, he had convinced himself that he had found love, that there might be joy to be found in this time. Or maybe if he could get back, he would bring Kerin with him. Basically, reason had been flushed from his mind after the admission of mutual interest from the elf.

His musings about blonde haired, green eyed children were interrupted by a light tapping on his head. Well, actually, it was more like a whack from Merlin's open palm that brought him out of his woolgathering, Harry reluctantly admitted to himself.

"I know you are enjoying your daydreams of our young female companion," said Merlin, making Harry blush. "But there are important matters to discuss. The spring festival is less than a season away. You have already learned much, and will continue to learn much, but not enough, I fear. Not quite enough."

"I have done my best to prepare you. You have been positioned in a way that I cannot help you. To do so would mean your death, but to enter into the guild of the Phoenix Knights may result in the same outcome. Have you read about the history of the Knights?"

"A little," answered Harry. "I know that they are the 'elite' forces of the Azcyadan military. They are formidable fighters and have the ability to control the more powerful species of dragons. I've heard that they are mages who did not have the talent for becoming battle magi, but are too powerful to waste as militia in outlying towns."

"I am glad that you have actually been reading instead of sleeping," praised Merlin. Becoming serious, he continued, "Legend has it that after the Great Draconian War, warriors were needed to protect the realm in case a force like the Draconians returned. Phoenix Knights were made to become such protectors of the realm. The ancient Dragon Council made a covenant with the Knights, granting power in exchange for their pledge to safeguard the realm. That is why the Knights were able to command the formidable powers of the silver and gold dragons. As generations passed, however, the true meaning of the Knights was forgotten, and the Council of Magi found ways to partially bypass the covenant. The Knights, like Norhaven eventually were corrupted. The rites of bonding were changed so that the Council could control those selected as Knights. They do so by manipulating the covenant and that is where you will be vulnerable to attack. For the penalty of being rejected is death."

Harry gulped, "So what do I do?"

"I do not know," replied Merlin, now looking far older. "The process itself is still a guarded secret, even though I once served on the council. The only advice I can give you is to stay true to yourself, no matter what happens, you will be able to overcome it."

"Hmm…" mumbled Harry. "You mentioned the Draconian War and I haven't ever seen it mentioned that in any of the histories. What was it, and who were the Draconians"

"The reason that you have not read about the Draconians is because they are a legend, one which has long been forgotten," answered Merlin. "Little is known about the Draconians themselves. They were rumored to be incredibly powerful both physically and magically. An almost perfect race of warriors, who were naturals with any type of magic, combat, or combination thereof. They were also incredibly bloodthirsty and warlike, fighting for the sake of fighting. A gateway was randomly opened between one of their conquered worlds and ours. Through it the Draconians invaded. War was waged for decades before the forces of this world were able to force the invaders back and close their gateway. It was said that if more than one gateway had been opened, that no force on Earth could stop them, but somehow only one portal was ever opened, for which our world was eternally fortunate. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," replied Harry, lying. They continued to walk in silence, Harry lost in his own thoughts.

"Was that vision about me," he silently asked himself. "Am I Draconian?" He mood darkened, with the thought that it might be true, and not even thoughts of the pretty elf in front of them could bring him out of it.

* * *

The party decided to stop for lunch next to a small riverbed a few hours later. Kerin sat down and took out the provisions that were given by the goblins, laying out travel bread, dried fruit, and some wax wrapped hard cheese. Harry filled their waterskins with the cool and crystal clear water from the nearby stream. He grabbed a piece of bread and some cheese, sitting down close to Kerin on the soft mossy ground. He felt a prickling on the back of his neck, making the hair there stand on end. It wasn't painful, merely irritating. He seemed to get that lately when there was magic being performed.

Deciding that this might be a good chance to see if what he termed as his 'mage-sight' worked, Harry concentrated on the feeling of being able to see on another level, and was surprisingly rewarded with the world turning into different masses of swirling energies contained within vague blue and white outlines. He looked up and saw why he had been alerted. A large rune was written above them in glowing white, with lines of electric blue cascading down, surrounding their position. Around them, hiding in the trees, were ten magically radiant beings.

"Ambush," he shouted. Before anyone else could do anything, he created a blinding flash of light, allowing him a chance to attack. Then all hell broke loose.

He took the magic surrounding him and drew it into his body, as he ran towards the first clustered group of attackers. He jumped, flipping above the surprised opponents, while firing blasting curses from the palms of his hands causing many to fall to the ground unconscious.

Moving in erratic patterns, he avoided most of the arrows that were fired at him. The ones that he could not avoid were deflected by a shimmering shield surrounding his body.

Noticing movement in a bush 3 meters away, he shot three stunners with his right hand before using his left hand to summon a blast of air propelling him off the ground, narrowly avoiding a fireball from his left, which turned a smaller oak into ash. Harry responded with a barrage of ice spikes, followed by a torrent of freezing rain.

Upon landing, he heard a _clink_, and ducked, feeling a blade pass over his head. Before the other completed his strike, Harry drew his blade, slamming the hilt into the gut of his assailant. He pivoted using his right leg to sweep his opponent's legs, continuing the spin and landed his heel on the other's temple, knocking him unconscious.

He sensed another two adversaries trying to creep up behind him unnoticed. He gave a slight smirk and released his magic, resulting in a wave of purple tinged silver energy to surround his body before exploding outwards, disarming all that stood within three meters of him. Harry turned around and saw two crumpled heaps of green and brown.

"_Another two down_," thought Harry grimly, running to meet the remaining ambushers.

Suddenly he saw arrows coming straight at him. He raised a shield to counter, but instead of stopping, they broke through his shield continuing on their course. Even with his magically enhanced reflexes, he still could not avoid them. In desperation, he called upon his magic to do something, anything. Without actively controlling his magic, all he could do was to feed it in hopes of something miraculous happening.

He closed his eyes, expecting the inevitable. For him, time began to slow, events occurring in slow motion. Wind built up around him, as it had the first time he used his storm wizardry, except this time, the wind was even stronger, it felt as if he was being carried along with the wind, one last fly before the arrows hit. And then as suddenly as it came, the wind left. He cracked open his eyes and saw three identically shocked expressions in front of him. The three green hooded enemies had their eyes wide and mouths hanging open, looking at Harry in disbelief. Then, as one, all four of them shook themselves out of their stupor.

"_Faina__ Tem_…," they called, trying to form a spell. However they were unable to finish before Harry put his hands up, firing a red wave of energy at the three and rendering them unconscious.

Kneeling down to make sure his opponents had been stunned, he turned to look at where he was standing and saw three arrows deeply embedded in the trunk of the tree directly behind his previous spot. He unconsciously shuddered at what had been too close a call, and wondered how he had once again managed to escape death.

He quickly stood and began to make his way back to the others, hoping that they were safe.

* * *

Once the light cleared the remaining three noticed that Harry had disappeared, all knowing that he had gone to engage the enemy. Cathal drew his sword, Kerin strung her bow, and Merlin just crossed his arms.

"Merlin," Kerin yelled. "What are you doing?"

Merlin pointed in front of the elves, where a battalion of mounted green and brown cloaked warriors had their arrows trained on them.

"I am assuming that they are your countrymen, and you would not take kindly to us hurting them," Merlin replied.

Kerin nodded, as she watched the lead rider dismount, and slowly walk towards her. She had a bad feeling about this. The person was wearing a green and brown cloak over chest mail, a brown tunic, and similarly colored leggings. The cloaked figure stopped in front of her and pulled the hood down, revealing shoulder length blonde hair which was pulled back to reveal pointed ears.

He stood with arms crossed over his green and silver mail, glaring at the female elf. "What are you doing bringing mages here," yelled the male Elf. "You of all people know the rules, sister!"

"Nice to see you again too, Kien," she scathingly replied. "But we had important information about the movement of the invading human army that could not wait. Or do you find such events beneath your station, brother."

His eyes bore into hers, trying to see if she had already corrupted by the humans. Satisfied that she was not yet, he nodded, saying, "And why did you bring them with you?"

"I needed help. I would not have survived to bring back the information without their assistance."

"Help," Kien yelled in disbelief, "The mages do not help anyone but themselves. They are evil. Do not forget what they did to enslave our ancestors or how they spilled Elven blood in order to control the other races of the realm. How could you forget so easily?" His voice getting louder with every word.

"They are different," Kerin pleaded. "They are not like the others."

"Fine then, you will prove it." Kien forcefully slammed his mind into his sister's, causing her to slightly whimper in pain. He didn't pay much notice, however, instead sifted through her experiences with the prisoners. The elf warrior saw her memories of the master mage known as Merlin, the slave Elf Cathal, and Harry… her increased feelings and desire for the young but powerful mage, along with the guilt of what she had done.

"Enough," Kien shouted. "Not only did you betray your own people, but you also betrayed _him_!" Pulling his hand back, he swung at Kerin. He hit her with the back of his hand, knocking her to the ground. Before he could do anything else, Kien was lifted off the ground and was met with a pair of angrily glowing red eyes.

* * *

Harry slowly made his way back to the rest of the group, stepping lightly so as not to attract attention from any more enemies. He was exhausted. The last piece of magic he had performed to escape the arrows ended up draining Harry more than he would have liked. Without enough energy to power his 'mage-sight', he was forced to rely on the lessons Cathal had imparted about using sound to locate your enemy.

Luckily the canopy of the forest provided Harry plenty of cover, as bushes and shadowed areas were in abundance. That also meant, however, that he had to also be cautious of others lurking in these areas, waiting to trap him, too.

There were now voices coming from up ahead. Slinking further into the shadows, he silently made his way around the trunk of a large tree in order to see what was going on. He had to quickly fight down his impatience and impetuous nature when he saw his friends being held at swordpoint. Harry knew that he couldn't just go rushing in there without a plan, especially with over thirty mounted warriors and ten foot soldiers.

He saw that Kerin was the only who was not at sword point. She seemed to be arguing with one of the soldiers, though he could not hear what was being said; only that she was saying something. A hundred scenarios of how to deal with this situation ran through his mind, but one that ended with his friends all coming out unhurt was not forthcoming. Harry sighed wearily as he began to gather his magic for the unavoidable confrontation. He kept telling himself that there was a better way to end this without blindly charging into the fray and getting them all killed.

Listening to his inner mind, however, was impossible upon seeing the girl he cared for struck, landing in an unceremonious heap on the dirt ground. As before, blind rage filled his body and the intent and conviction to kill overcame his more benign emotions. But, he had never felt this _thirst_, this _need_, this _desire_ to do harm to another being. These negative emotions made him feel strong, almost god-like and he was intoxicated with what it did to him. Somewhere deep down, he knew it was wrong to feel this way, to enjoy this darkness. Unfortunately, his anger overpowered all doubts and objections. Unbeknownst to Harry, as his hatred grew, so did the color of his eyes change from a bright emerald green to a pulsating dark red. A murderous grin was plastered on his face before he sprung into action.

Somehow, one second he was still under the tree, the next, he had clasped his hand around his enemy's throat, proceeding to lift him off the ground. He could hear the nocking of arrows around him, along with the unsheathing of more swords. Harry did not care, though. His only concern was to kill the bastard who dared to hurt the Elven girl. His captive was struggling, clawing at his arms, unable to break his iron grip.

Kien knew that he could try to draw his weapons or shout a spell, but try would be all he could do. He also knew that he would most likely be killed long before he could do anything. The elf began to cough as Harry began to squeeze tighter, forcing his windpipe to close.

"Stop," someone said. "I command you to release him."

"No," Harry simply stated before squeezing even harder. Kien's face was beginning to turn purple now.

"I will shoot."

Harry, growing tired and quite agitated at this man, snarled and released a circular blast of power, shattering swords and breaking bows. The elves looked at him fearfully, never before had they seen such a raw display of power. Not even their strongest spellweavers could even come close to matching what he had just done.

"Shoot, with what?" He laughed, glaring at the idiot who dared challenge him. With the power of his mind, he sent the pompous arse flying into a tree. A loud crack was heard as the body impacted the tree before sliding to the ground.

"Harry," a soft voice said behind him. "Please stop." He looked behind him and saw a tearstained Kerin looking at him fearfully. He had never meant to hurt her or frighten her, only to protect her.

"Kerin… I…I…" He stuttered, the rage leaving him. "I'm sorry." His eyes returned to their normal color and he fell onto his knees.

"What have I done," he asked morosely, cradling his head in his hands. Kerin pulled him close, holding and comforting him, as he let out some much needed tears.

Kien drew himself up to his hands and knees, greedily inhaling as much air as possible. His face began to turn from purple to a deep red. He stared angrily at Harry, about to order that he be restrained when he received a similar glower from his sister, wordlessly warning him not to do what he wanted to do.

As for Harry, he was feeling miserable. He did not know what came over him. Ever since he had fought Kor, he had become more susceptible to fits of rage. Unlike other who would just punch in walls, he was able to easily lift a soldier up by the neck, and shatter forty weapons with a single thought. Harry shuddered to think of the part of him that seemed to enjoy and feed off of such violent behavior.

"I'm not like Riddle, damnit," he thought bitterly, fists clenched in anger. "I am not like him. I don't enjoy torturing people, I don't like hurting them." But there was still that soft voice in the back of his mind telling him that he did and should enjoy violence.

The elf commander finally stood up when his face returned to normal. He pointed two fingers to Harry, then at two foot soldiers. The two soldiers cautiously approached him, fear still evident in their eyes.

Harry was grabbed by his arms, forcibly lifted to his feet. As ashamed as he was for his actions, the manners of the other elves did nothing to quell the rising irritation that he was feeling.

Glaring at the two elves, red threatening to once again take control of his eyes, he ground his teeth saying, "I know how to walk." Frightened by his powers, Harry's 'escorts' quickly released his arms, mumbling apologies. One part of him felt satisfaction at making the stuck up elves cower, while another part kept yelling that his actions were not right.

"You are all under arr..." Kien tried to say, but was punched by Kerin before he could finish his sentence.

She grabbed him, whispering in his ear, "Do not be stupid. You saw what he can do. He is a good man, but he is powerful and easily irritated. Apologize to him. Do not let your prejudices blind and kill you."

"Fine," Kien replied, clearly unhappy at not having his way, but knowing that to do otherwise would be suicide. In a louder voice he said, "I apologize for attacking. I acted rashly. We will act as your escort for the rest of the way."

"There, was that so hard?" asked Kerin, with a twinkle in her eye.

"Yes," said Kien, glaring hatefully at Harry.

The trip to the city was made quietly and without further incident. Harry kept to himself, not responding to anyone, not even Kerin. She tried numerous times to say something to make him laugh, or to get him talking, but it was to no avail. The only thing Harry responded to was Kerin taking his hand and giving it a slight squeeze.

They were admitted into the city with the minimum of fuss. _Vanimdole'ndor_ was beautiful, if any of them had taken notice. Immaculate gardens lined the stone pathways which connected the lower parts of the city. There were a few small buildings made of vines, grown and shaped to make these low lying buildings have no straight lines. Everything was curved. It was utility and art wonderfully combined.

Above was a myriad of dwellings and other buildings built on and inside the great trees of the forest. Buildings were connected with rope bridges and wooden platforms, where young Elven children could be seen excitedly running. The number of actual levels was impossible to count, since buildings on each tree seemed to be randomly arranged wherever the designers saw fit.

Since the canopy of leaves blocked out most sunlight, artificial magical lights were seen floating everywhere, giving the city a surreal yet peaceful feeling. The area was bathed with white, red, blue, yellow, and purple lights. Some were flashing, while others remained stagnant; another reminder of the interplay between the chaos and order of the city.

A cable pulled platform brought the mages, elves, and un-mounted soldiers to the uppermost level. There were no other buildings on this level. A long golden oak walkway led the way to two large doors covered with vines, which were shaped into ornate designs.

The doors opened, revealing a hallway lined with Elven soldiers wearing silver breastplates engraved with the image of a large tree and carrying deadly looking pikes with jagged tips. Their eyes remained staring straight ahead, with no acknowledgement that they had noticed the groups passing. The group was led into a small anteroom, decorated similarly to the rest of the building.

"You will be called when the council is ready to see you," said Kien, before walking out and closing the door, locking them in.

"So what do we do now," asked Harry, clearly agitated.

"We sit," said Merlin. "There is nothing to be gained by making more enemies." He took a seat in a comfortable looking chair made of brown vines and red cushions.

Cathal also sat down, silently giving his agreement. "The Elven race is proud and often arrogant, we must tread cautiously. The dislike of the mages by the old races is well known."

"I don't like this," said Harry, nervously. "Feels too much like the dwarves. I don't like this at all." He kept pacing around the room, refusing to sit, remembering the torture that had been inflicted upon him the last time he had been captured.

As if sensing his worries, Kerin said, "The council is wise and just. We do not need to worry; they are nothing like the dwarves." But after seeing her brother's reaction to her feelings towards Harry, her voice lacked conviction.

"Can't we just blast the door," joked Harry. "We could get out of here before they had any idea what was going on."

Merlin just gave his apprentice a look, wondering what was making him so tense. Before he could ask, the door opened, and a boy wearing a tabard with the tree entered.

"The council will see you now," he said.

* * *

The council chamber itself was a large domed room. Branches twisted together to form the dome, leaving a large circle of glass at the top, allowing both sunlight and moonlight to stream through into the chamber. Members of the council were standing in front of backless moon shaped chairs, which were arrayed in a full circle. A large tree, more specifically the tree of life, was carved into the floor of the open space in the middle of the circle.

Across from the entrance a green and gold robed figure stood on a raised dais, in front of a high backed chair. He was tall and looked like Kien, except with grey hair. He wore a simple circular band of gold around his head. Narrowed eyes regarded them as the four were escorted to the center of the circle. He gracefully sat down before a page addressed the assembled members.

"This is a hearing of the Council of the Free Elven People versus the accused," said the page in a smooth baritone voice. "Presiding over the council today is the noble En'Marth, defender of _Vanimdole'ndor_. You may now be seated."

"Mages and fellow Elves," began En'Marth, in a soft yet commanding voice. "You stand here accused of trespassing upon the sovereign lands of _Vanimdole'ndor_. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty," responded Kerin, before any of the others could say anything. "As a citizen of this city, they were here by my invitation."

"Why did you allow them to come?" asked one of the council members.

"They were protecting me, helping me gather important strategic information about the human army, and escorting me back to the city. So, they cannot be trespassing."

"What you admit to may be considered treason," said En'Marth softly. "Are you sure you want to say this."

"Yes," the elf girl replied without hesitation. "The information is for the good of our people, and because of that, I do not believe it to be treason."

"Very well, this will be discussed later by the council," continued the Elven leader. "Next are the charges brought against the Mage, Harry Potter. You stand here accused of resisting arrest, destruction of Elven property, assaulting an Elven commanding officer, and employing dangerous magics. How do you plead?"

"Sir," Kerin started to say. "He didn't…"

Voices rang out in the chamber.

"He assaulted one of us…"

"Hang him…"

"Why are you defending him?"

"… he is a mage, he must be guilty…"

"SILENCE," En'Marth shouted, quieting the other members down. "I will have order in this room. Now, Mage Potter, and only Mage Potter, answer the question."

"Does it matter?" said Harry quietly.

"What did you say young man," asked another council member, clearly annoyed.

"Does it matter," said Harry louder. "No matter who you are, Dwarf, Elf, or Mage, all of you are the same. You are all bigoted against one another. Trials are only used to rationalize to yourself how much more just and fair you are. You want to show your superiority above the other races, while, in reality, none of you are any different. So, does it matter what I plead? If I plead guilty, then I will be tortured and executed. If I plead not guilty, I will be called a liar, and tortured and executed anyways."

"We would never stoop to the level of those filthy dwarves," yelled a yellow robed council member.

"But you do," yelled Harry, becoming angry. "I can see it in the expressions on your faces." His insides seethed with righteous indignation, he was trying hard not to give in to his rage. The air began to pulsate with magic as Harry battled to control his emotions. The council members could feel the copious amount of power pouring from the boy and were, for the first time, frightened by a mage.

"Harry," Merlin calmly said, putting a hand on the young mage's shoulder. "You must be at peace, clear your mind, forget about your past, forget about your surroundings. There is only inner tranquility."

Harry tried to run through the exercises, focusing on pushing all his anger, worries, and fear into the fire in front of him, while standing in the blackness, in the void. The occupants of the room visibly relaxed as the oppressive magic began to dissipate.

En'Marth stood up, addressing the chamber, wisely not asking the young mage about his guilt. "The accused will leave so the council can begin deliberations. Except for you." He pointed at Kerin.

The other three were escorted out by guards, while she stood in place. She tried to reassure them, but could only manage sending a weak smile. Once the doors were closed again, En'Marth, leader of the free Elven people, sat down heavily with a groan.

"What form of madness made you bring them here, my daughter?" He asked.

"They are my friends, they helped me return safely," she replied. "Without them, I fear that I would have never been able to lay eyes upon you again, father." Kerin knew that she was preying upon the sympathies of her father, but she had no choice if she wanted to save her friends.

"What information do you bring us," sneered a council member. "That is worth the risk of exposure to the mages."

Kerin began to recount her experiences and scouting of the enemy camps, their methods, and their numbers. The faces of the council became increasingly shocked and worried as she gave her report.

"… with our current forces, we would be hard pressed to defeat even a fourth of their number, regardless of the employment of magic," she finished.

"What do you suggest we do," asked her father, looking far older than she had ever seen him.

The female elf took a deep breath and said, "I believe that we need to ask for an alliance with the Azcyadan forces."

The council chamber once again erupted into chaos. Councilmen began to loudly voice their opinions on the subject. The Elven leader allowed this for a few moments before roaring, "SILENCE."

"We must consider this matter," he continued. "This requires further deliberation, not only by the council, but also by the elders."

"What about the charges against my friend," Kerin worriedly asked.

"Seeing as we may have to consider an alliance with the Magi," sighed En'Marth. "It would not be a good idea to start off by angering two powerful ones." He motioned to one of the pages, to retrieve the accused.

The doors opened to admit Cathal, Merlin, and Harry, the latter one having an unreadable expression upon his face, devoid of all emotion. He seemed to be calm about whatever was to happen. Kerin, however, knew that he was hiding his fear; worrying about what his actions to escape may be if the council sentenced him to be tortured and executed.

"After careful deliberation and examination of the information given to us," said En'Marth. "We have decided to drop all accusations against you. We welcome you to the last free Elven city. I regret that you have been detained in such a way, and ask you to join myself and my daughter for dinner as recompense for our actions today." He forced a smile onto his face, welcoming the outsiders.

"We gladly accept," bowed Kerin, wondering what her father was up to.

* * *

Harry found himself leaning on a vine railing, on one of the higher rope bridges. After dinner, he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. He still did not understand why they had been invited to dinner, or why the leader of the Elven people had been so interested in him.

Dinner had been a quiet affair, with only En'Marth, his family, and his guests in attendance. Though Harry snickered at the memory of how Kien almost fell backwards after seeing Harry at the dinner table. He was so immersed in his thoughts that he did not sense Kerin approaching behind him.

She slipped her arms around his waist, pressing herself into his back. He smiled, turning around and facing her. Kerin was radiant; she was wearing a sleeveless silver gown, accentuating her figure. Her hair was coiled up on top of her head, with two ringlets of blonde hair framing her heart shaped face. She smiled up at him, sparkling blue eyes meeting green ones, before he leaned down and captured her lips with his. When they finally came up for air, he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, and she held him tighter, resting her head on his chest.

"Harry," she asked, muffled by his clothing.

"Yes?"

"So you don't mind that I'm En'Marth's daughter?"

He sighed, "I guess it would have been nice if you told me beforehand, but I can understand why you didn't." He ran a finger against her jaw, seeing her shiver with pleasure. "That does not change the way I feel about you. I have not ever been good with words, but I think I'm… I'm… I'm in love with you."

Kerin pulled Harry down for a kiss in response, driving the question from his mind of why she did not answer.

Eventually they broke apart. Kerin interlaced her hand with his, leading him back to see her suite. He never made it back that night to see the rooms that he had been provided with.

* * *

The next day, Cathal brought him down to one of the gardens, where many elves were practicing hand to hand combat and swordplay. The training area was just a large clearing in the middle of one of the gardens where students of war would congregate. All action stopped as he and Cathal walked in. They were all staring at the young mage.

One particularly annoying elf came by, yelling, "Hey, you can't practice here. We don't want your kind here. Get out before I teach you a painful lesson."

"They seem _real_ friendly here," muttered Harry, so that only Cathal could hear.

"I thought you could use some opponents who could, what's the word," Cathal smirked. "Oh yes… who could add a greater sense of realism to fighting than I can."

Harry was clearly vexed with the situation. Drawing his sword, he challenged the elf, "You know, you really shouldn't insult your betters." Subtly he laced his words with a hint of magic to make them seem extremely arrogant, one of the less battle oriented pieces of magic that he learned before this whole fiasco started.

The elf was so incensed with anger that he had trouble drawing his sword. Harry knew he could have won by disarming him at that point, but what would be fun in that. Sparing a quick glance at Cathal, he smirked, knowing his teacher had told him to take advantage of any situation. Finally his opponent cleared his blade from its scabbard. Pointing the tip at Harry, he gave a battle cry before attacking.

Glad that his mind had not been distracted with thoughts of Kerin when he practiced with Cathal. Harry found that he had now become much better with physical combat than when he had previously faced Majer Garrison. He easily deflected the elf's attacks, never making an offensive move, carefully observing his opponent.

Once his opponent began to repeat his moves, Harry figured that the elf had exhausted his small repertoire of moves. He began to move on the offensive, surprising his opponent, who probably expected him to remain on the defensive. With a quick flick of the wrist, he sent his adversary's sword flying. He placed his blade on the other's throat.

"Now get this straight," he growled. "I go where I want to go. No prejudiced arse is going to stop me. Oh and here's your lesson." In the blink of an eye, he drew back his weapon and hit the arrogant elf's backside with the flat of his blade, causing him to yelp in pain.

"You know," said another elf, bowing. "We aren't all as annoying as young Ryl'th. You are good with the blade. You would honor me by dueling with me." Harry smiled and bowed in return.

While Harry was dueling, a grey haired elf wearing leather armor and a long broadsword strapped to his back came to stand next to Cathal.

"Your student, I assume," the Elf asked.

"I was wondering when you would show your face Gieon," Cathal laughed, embracing his friend. "And yes, I have been training young Harry."

"There is no way to keep a good elf down," the other laughed. "Your student is a natural. I see you're influence in his fighting. He blends _megil__' dagora _and _cam'dagora_ well, much like his teacher used to."

"You were always a purist, master," said Cathal. "When fighting in battle, there are no distinctions. A win is a win, and a defeat is death."

"That is true," chuckled Gieon. "You have learned much since we last met. You still serve the Azcyadans?"

"Unfortunately. My family remains in Nost, refusing to leave. They are set in their ways. I take it you were not?"

"No. I wanted freedom from the mages. I have no family to tie me down. You were the closest thing to a son I had. I still cannot use magic here without drawing attention from the mages, but it is a worthwhile sacrifice." Gieon grinned. "I always liked fighting over studying magic anyways. How long have you been training him?"

"A little under a year," replied Cathal. "He is a very fast learner."

Gieon could only grunt, seeing Harry dispatch another opponent, his fourth that morning, if the old elf remembered correctly. "Under a year," he mused aloud. "Even you took three years to reach master and you were a prodigy. Is he ready for the trials?"

Cathal gave his teacher a look. Gidon said. "I see, so that is why you brought him down to the training yards. I guess its about time for me to go out there then."

Harry had just finished with his last opponent, a more difficult one, since the other elf also had incredible reflexes and extensive training with the sword. It was only with the Elven hand-to-hand combat style that allowed Harry to defeat him.

He watched warily as the grey haired elf that was talking to Cathal came over to sand across from him. Harry knew what was coming. As he bowed to the elf, he quickly forced magic into his exhausted body, invigorating it before the coming battle. As none of the others in the training arena were using magic, he did not think it was fair to use this particular technique during a match. But he reasoned that it was fair enough before a match since most came to fight him after only about one match.

Keeping his eyes locked on his adversary's while bowing, he quickly sized the elf up. He was using a two-handed broadsword. That meant that his main attacks were either fully vertical or horizontal. He would not be able to use his sword and his off hand at the same time for extended periods of time. Harry would have to make sure to dodge and redirect the bigger blade; otherwise his blade would probably shatter from the impact.

Gieon began with a classic vertical strike, causing Harry to move left slashing at his exposed ribs. However, before he could land a hit, the larger blade came up diagonally, surprising Harry, who had to flip back to avoid being skewered. He narrowed his eyes at his opponent. He knew that he had underestimated his opponent, a mistake that he would not be repeating with the older elf.

Harry sprung up from his position, landing with his sword point downwards at Gieon. The elf swung his sword upwards to catch him, but realized that it was a feint, as Harry twisted left at the last second, avoiding the blade. He landed on his free hand, lashing out with an upside down kick with his right and then left leg. Harry spun and flipped to sweep Gieon, but the other jumped away, slashing downwards. Deflecting the blade, Harry drove his hilt at the other's solar plexus. A hand lashed out, causing him to miss and hit empty air. Stepping forward with his right leg to maintain balance, he caught the only arm holding the broadsword and pulled down. This motion, along with his rising shoulder hitting the arm, caused his adversary to flip over

Gieon, however, did not let a thing like gravity stop him. He kicked Harry in midair, causing the mage to block, rather than attack. Quick as a cat, the elf was on the offensive. Harry wove an impressive defense, but was unable to turn the attack back on the offensive; the speed of the other swordsman was incredible. He knew he would lose if he could not get out of this trap. In a last ditch effort, Harry waited for the right moment as Gieon swung downwards.

When the downward strike came, he allowed the blade to pass within a hair's breadth of him. Before the elf could raise his blade back to the guard position, Harry used his legs to catch his opponent's legs, sending them both tumbling to the ground. He held his blade at the Elven swordsman's throat.

"I guess I win," he announced, breathless.

His opponent was breathing hard too, but managed to say, "And you lose." Harry looked down and saw that the elf had somehow positioned his blade point first at his heart.

"Damn," he said, causing a grin to break out on the elf's face. "I thought I had you."

"Good try Harry," said Cathal, coming up to the two. "But I still can't beat him to this day. Though there are those good days that I can cause a draw. Harry Potter, meet _my_ teacher Gieon Megil'Tura."

Harry lowered his sword, as did Gieon. The elf chuckled, "Good fight, though I think I'm getting too old for jumping around so much. I find it much easier to fight traditionalists who don't mix swordplay with hand to hand." He stood up, and helped Harry to his feet.

"It is an honor to meet you," said Harry, bowing deeply.

"And I am honored to meet you also Harry Potter," returned Gieon, bowing. "Or should I now say Harry Megil'Tura?"

"Wait, what?" Harry exclaimed. He narrowed his eyes at Cathal. "What's going on?" He knew that somehow Cathal was involved in this.

"_Megil'Tura_," said Cathal. "Means master blade. Congratulations, you passed your trials and are now a blade master, or at least an Elven one. I told you I could make you one in a year."

"But," Harry sputtered. "I thought it takes a lifetime of dedication to become a master?"

"Well Harry," Gieon said. "Most master blades took a lifetime to achieve their ranks, but there are those who did it much faster. Before you, only one had reached his mastery in less than fifty years, and he still took three years. The trials of a master blade require a student to fight four peers who are close to master blade level, and two masters. If he can defeat all four and the two masters, or fight the masters to a draw, then he will be honored with the title of _Megil'Tura_."

"But you are the only master I fought," said Harry, confused.

"I was the other one," said Cathal smiling, and I was _very_ surprised the one time you were able to beat me. Now, enough talk. It is time to perform the ritual and then celebrate. By nightfall, the city will know another _Megil'Tura_ has been born!"

* * *

Three weeks later, Harry found himself sitting in the library studying ancient Elven texts on magic. He reflected on how the amount he had learned in the past few weeks could rival five years of schooling in Hogwarts.

Touching the hilt of his new sword reminded him of how he had received it. It was a gift from Cathal for passing his mastery trials in the blade. He had received two gifts that day. One was the beautiful Elven sword, given before the celebration. It was similar to the sword he had been wielding, but the handle resembled the twisted roots of a tree. The silver blade was sharp, and carried runes of strength, durability, and spell warding on it. The second gift he had received was the secret knowledge of the Elven Tree blade form, which could only be obtained after a mastery was completed. It came to him in a vision after the celebration, and when he woke, the knowledge was inherent.

The vision was induced by a ritual performed right after his sword was given to him. Elven herbs and wine were used for the base. But a drop of blood from each of the masters was needed to unlock the form, and a drop of Harry's blood was needed to bind the unlocked knowledge to him. This insured that the form could only be known by masters.

Afterwards, Harry actually felt welcomed by the denizens of the city. Most of the city came out for the celebration, for it was not a common occurrence to make blademaster. After hearing that a mage had been named an Elven blademaster and bound himself magically through the oath of the _Megil'Tura_, they welcomed him as one of their own. Of course he still received hostile looks from some elves, but it was no longer from the majority of the citizens.

He also spent all of his free time, which were coincidentally mostly nights, with the bright eyed Kerin who demonstrated other enjoyable lessons which would have, once long ago, made him blush.

Of course there was also his unexplainable ability to perform Elven magic. He and Merlin had been studying tomes on Elven magical theory, and the results seemed easy enough to produce. It was similar to human magic, energy was gathered from the surrounding area, channeled, and released. The problem, however, seemed to be gathering the energy to perform the required spells.

He and Merlin had spent several sleepless nights trying to unravel these mysteries. Harry thought that Hermione would have been proud of his newfound obsession to learn. Then again, it was probably because he had been infected with Merlin's desire to know everything, without someone like Ron convincing him to do otherwise.

It was late one night that Harry found a passage that allowed him to figure it out. It read:

_All Elven magic must be drawn from nature and stored within our bodies before being released. Our power stems from being one with nature. Only harmony will allow a spellweaver to properly cast magic. Without nature's consent, our powers are useless… _

He came to the conclusion that they were drawing magic incorrectly. It had to be drawn in a different way when using the two types of magic. Harry thought of tuning a radio to a certain channel. Collection was almost the same, he pictured a knob changing the 'frequency' of magic that he collected, and it worked! The problem, though, was that human magic could not be used when only drawing from nature, and Elven Magic could not be used when drawing from all sources. So, he needed to continue switching between the two.

Once he had gotten past that point, the actual casting was not that difficult. Merlin still had trouble sustaining the change for long enough to collect the energies needed to perform some of the more powerful spells, but the older mage never let a small setback like that deter him.

Harry had also found a few other interesting things about Elven magic. Unlike his own magic, for which he no longer needed incantations, the magic of the Elves do require words to activate. He tried to picture in his mind what result he wanted, calling upon the Elven magic stored in his body, as he did with his 'normal' magic, but nothing happened in those cases.

He assumed that some Elves could probably do it, but since he was human, he admitted that he probably would have limitations. Harry contented himself with the fact that he could perform the magic at all.

Looking down and reading about another fire spell, he remembered how surprised he was that he did not have the limitations on using the elements in Elven magic. Somehow his abilities and aptitude in Storm Wizardry, and his resulting inability to use Fire or Earth elements, did not carry over when using Elven incantations. So, Harry was attempting to learn as many fire and earth spells that were available, in order to give him as much of a chance for survival as possible.

Glancing down at a journal of some kind, he found a couple spells that could be quite useful to him:

_Spell Class: Healing_

_Incantation: Tanka Ha'war_

_Description: Takes all pain into the soul of the caster and using love to heal the one who it was cast upon. It has been theorized that even the recently deceased can be revived through this technique. WARNING: If the caster cannot withstand and defeat the pain, they may be susceptible to receiving the same condition that they were trying to heal. _

"This might not be as useful as I thought," grumbled Harry. He knew that love for every patient was not something that the healers at St. Mungo's or even he had. Continuing to skim, he found a particularly interesting spell:

_Spell Class: Arcane_

_Incantation: Lova Termara en'Templa_

_Description: Drains magic from target. Caster has choice of absorbing magic or dissipating it. The longer the spell is held upon the target, the higher the rate of drainage. If spell is held for too long, the result may be a permanent loss of magical ability._

A smile formed on his face as Harry imagined Korvin as a squib. The next spell thoroughly shocked Harry. He had always thought that Elves were creatures who served the light, but after seeing this spell he wasn't so sure.

_Spell Class: Unknown_

_Incantation: Quanta Uaina'kshapa_

_Description: Forcibly separates soul from body, sending the target to the afterworld early. _

After re-reading the destroy soul spell, he shuddered to think if the Magi had similar spells. He returned the journal to the shelf, and was about take another out when he heard loud cheering from outside. Smiling to himself, he decided to take a break and go look. Harry didn't think anything could ruin his life right now.

* * *

A large procession of soldiers on horseback rode along the gardens, banners waving in the air, while the denizens of the city cheered themselves hoarse. The soldiers of _Vanimdole'ndor_ had returned.

The lead rider dismounted and walked up to a raised dais with En'Marth and his children. He removed his golden helm, shaking out shoulder length chestnut hair. He was tall, around five feet eleven, with a well toned body from the campaigns that he had been involved in. He wore golden armor over a long-sleeved white tunic, and white leather breeches.

"_Probably the commanding officer_," Harry silently mused. "_Every elf girl's dream I suspect. Good thing Kerin doesn't go for guys like that._"

The commander knelt down before En'Marth, kissing his knuckles. In a rich bass voice, he said, "We have returned my liege. We bring word of victory against the dwarven empire and those goblin thieves. They have been driven back from our lands. We have once again been successful."

"Rise Hamil'th, _Kano__ k'Vanimdole'ndor_," said En'Marth, helping the commander to his feet. "The city welcomes the return of her sons. And our family welcomes your return as one of our own."

He smiled as he looked over at Kerin.

"_No, it's not possible._" Harry thought.

Hamil'th stood in front of Kerin, as if unsure what to do. She smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck, as he did the same to her waist. They stared into each other's eyes, ignoring the outside world.

"_This must be a bad dream, maybe they're family."_

"_A'mael_," He softly said to her, though his voice still carried as the crowd became silent trying to hear. "_Amin__ mela lle.__ Amin Varu'ar?_" The crowd held its breath awaiting his answer.

"_That doesn't mean what I think it does, does it?"_

"Yes," she said kissing him. "I will marry you, my love."

"_No… No… NOOO_," Harry screamed inside his head. On the outside, he controlled his emotions. He tried to clear his mind, putting everything into the flame, but it just burned brighter, he still could feel his heart break. He still felt the betrayal. He still felt the hurt. Magic began to swirl around him, as the air turned cold.

Up on the dais, Kerin smiled up at her betrothed love evident in her eyes. She was so glad to see him alive and well. She thought he was gone after they had not heard from the soldiers for years. She grieved for months, hoping that he would come back, but after three years, he never did. She forgot about everything else as she stared into his emerald green eyes.

"_How I have missed those eyes_," she thought to herself. _"I could look into them and never look at anything else."_

She was so happy that she ignored the raven haired boy standing in the crowd, who watched her embrace her love, who watched her kiss her love, and who watched as his heart was torn from his chest.

The air began to turn colder, as strong gusts of wind blew through the city, increasing in ferocity. They began to twist and turn, banging against anything in their path. At the center of this building storm was one hurt and angry mage. As his anger increased, so did the fury of the winds. Soon people were having trouble standing where they were. And the screams of confusion began.

The elf girl on the dais heard the screams and felt the wind as both continued to build in intensity. Both she and her beloved looked to the source of the ominous storm, and found it in the form of a young man. He was standing there with an icy expression on his face, cold anger burning in his reddening eyes. Kerin was almost floored by the anger, hurt, and pain that could only be seen in his eyes. She was caught by Hamil'th, which caused the winds to grow even stronger.

"Oh shit," she exclaimed. The howling of the wind built to a deafening crescendo, before suddenly stopping. When it stopped, the spot where Harry was once standing now contained only empty air.

* * *

"_How could she?" _He thought, as winds buffeted those around him, throwing some into walls, or driving others to the ground.

"_I thought she loved me_," Harry angrily spat, as he began to lose control of his powers, the storm winds threatening to engulf both his body and mind.

_"I… need…. I need… I need to get out of here," _He mentally shouted. Merlin had once said that the power of a mage responds to the result that they hold in their minds. It was no different in this instance. Harry found himself floating in the air, the wind rushing past him, blowing his air everywhere. With an almost seamless transition, he felt as if he had become one with the wind; he could touch everything and nothing; he was constantly moving yet constantly stationary. And then it hit him, he had literally become the wind.

He flew up over the city, into the open air above the forest. Flying always seemed to be the best therapy for him. No matter what happened, he could get away from his problems in the air, even if it were only a temporary solution. Whether on a broomstick in Hogwarts, or as the incarnation of Wind now, it didn't matter. Flying was flying, and it often was the only thing that could keep Harry sane.

As the hours passed, he could feel himself tiring, and _knew_ that he would soon be returned to his human form. So he reluctantly returned back to the city. He quickly flew through the hallways of the palace, under a crack of a door, and into the room that he and Cathal shared. Before he could fly to his bed, his powers gave way and reverted him back into human form, four feet above the floor.

He landed with a resounding _thunk_ in front of Cathal, who was calmly sharpening his weapons, not even batting an eye when Harry materialized in front of him.

"I take, by your appearance in our rooms, that you attended the welcoming ceremony for the returning soldiers," Cathal asked.

"How could you ever guess," Harry sarcastically replied. "How could she do that, I mean lie to me. I thought she actually cared."

"Who understands the minds of women," Cathal said, grinning. "That's why I have stayed single for so many years."

Merlin calmly walked in, concern evident in his eyes. "I take it the rumors of a mini hurricane and the magical surge that I felt earlier both had to do with you?"

Harry nodded, hanging his head down. "Do not worry, my apprentice," soothed Merlin. "There are many more enchantresses in this world to catch your eye. I know you feel as if you have lost something special, but I do not believe that she was 'the one'. The one thing I would ask is that you do not allow your emotions to rule you. Do not let hate consume you. You must give the outwards appearance of being indifferent, especially tonight." He tossed an envelope on Harry's bed and left.

He picked it up. It was sealed in a parchment envelope, with the tree of life on the green seal. Opening it, he read the following:

_You have been cordially invited to attend the betrothal dinner of Kerin and Hamil'th_

_This celebration will commence at precisely sundown_

Harry stared at the slip of parchment in disbelief. There was no way he was going to that! He crumpled up the letter, throwing it on the floor.

"Decided not to go?" asked Cathal, innocently. "You know it would make her more upset if you acted as if nothing happened."

"But something did happen," growled Harry.

"True, but you do not have to show that it did." Cathal smirked at this last comment.

Harry could only stare at the crumpled parchment at his feet, wondering when his life would finally get better.

* * *

"Magi Harry Potter-_Megil'Tura_," the announcer said, as Harry entered the resplendent hall. They were deep inside the palace, in a room that was about five times the size of the Hogwarts Great Hall. Torches adorned the wall, while magelights were floating above their heads, bathing the room in a comfortable white light. Elven servants were bustling to and fro, carrying wine, refilling emptied goblets, and wheeling in the food that was soon to be served.

Harry walked past the lower tables, wondering why he had been placed at the high table. Then again, Elven master blades were rare and were frequently honored. He hoped that he would be seated next to one of his friends rather than one of the bethrothed.

He felt eyes on him and not all from elves who wondered who he was. He knew that he was getting many appreciative looks from the female elves in the room. Garbed in a black silk shirt, black pants, and formal mage robes of black with silver trimming, he cut an impressive image. His elven blade identifying him as one of the _Megil'Tura_ hung off his belt.

Going to the head table, he cursed under his breath, when he found his seat. Sitting to his left was Geion, but on his right was Kerin. She had not yet sat down, so he had time to regain his composure and secure his mask of indifference. The flame in his mind grew like a thousand suns after he had fed all his emotions to fuel it. He kept himself anchored inside the blackness, hoping that it would be enough to deal with the situation.

Soon, trumpets blared heralding the arrival of the royal family. As they came in, Harry could not keep his eyes from following Kerin. She was riveting, dressed in a light yellow gown, complementing her long braided blonde hair. He saw her smile of happiness as she was led to the table by the Elven commander. Harry remembered her looking at him like that only a day ago. He fought down his despair, continuing to fuel the fire in his mind.

Kerin was surprised when she saw Harry. She tried looking into his eyes, but could not stand the gaze devoid of all passion, of all emotions, looking back at her. When she arrived at the table, she almost fainted when she was placed next to Harry. The elf girl had a very bad feeling about this.

"Something wrong dear," Hamil'th asked, sitting down, after pulling her chair out for her.

"No," she quickly replied. "Everything is fine."

Harry turned to her, raising an eyebrow, looking at her with a curious expression before saying, "Congratulations."

Before she could respond, the meal was served. She had no time to talk to her, as various dignitaries and officials of the city stopped at the table to give their best wishes. Kerin was engaged in talking with the minister of commerce at his table, so she did not notice when her betrothed decided to 'engage' the young mage in conversation, where 'engaging' meant ridiculing.

"So, magi, I hear that you are quite the swordsman," said Hamil'th with a smirk. "You have even reached the rank of _Tura_. Are you too tired of being human and trying to emulate your betters?"

"I hear you have killed oh so scary dwarves and goblins in your year long quest," retorted Harry, a malicious gleam in his eye. "Tell me, brave warrior, do you feel proud running from races less than half your size for an entire year and then only being able to defeat them by slaughtering them in their sleep. Unless, of course, they are the only ones you can fight, since you cannot match real men, much like your skills in the bedroom."

Everyone who heard the last comment, held their breath waiting for the inevitable response. Hamil'th's face began to turn red with anger. His glass goblet burst as he gripped it too tightly, embedding shattered glass into the palm of his hand.

"You would be wise not to anger me," the elf commander said to Harry, threateningly.

"And you would be wise to impale yourself on your own sword," replied Harry, baiting Hamil'th. "But we all know that you aren't wise."

Hamil'th slammed his fist down on the table, knocking several goblets over, spilling wine everywhere. "I challenge you to a duel tomorrow at noon."

"You will not survive the duel," said Harry so quietly that people near him had to strain to hear. "I will allow you to back out, in order to save your life."

"TOMORROW, NOON," yelled Hamil'th storming out of the hall.

Gieon gave Harry a smug look, "That's one way to do it. Not the smartest way, but it would be what I would've done."

* * *

Harry found himself sitting in the library that night, trying to learn as many spells as possible before the morning. Afraid that someone would attack him before the duel, he set up wards that would warn him of intruders in the library. It was about midnight when his wards went off. He raised his hand, magic gathered and ready for release from his palm. He was surprised that his intruder was none other than Kerin.

"We need to talk," she said softly.

"There is nothing to talk about," coldly replied Harry. He tried to remain in the darkness of the void, forcing himself to disregard the thin nightgown that the elf was wearing, or how his feelings flared when he saw her.

"Harry, I am so sorry," Kerin said in a rush, coming over to touch Harry's arm. He jerked his arm back as if burned, receiving a hurt look from the elf. "I never meant to hurt you, it was the last thing I wanted to do. I have known Hamil'th from childhood, we grew up together. We were so in love, but he was forced to leave to fight invaders on our borders. When we had not heard any word from the army for many years, we gave them up as lost. I grieved for a long time, until I put my grief aside and joined the Elven scouts, finding information and hoping that I would find information on what happened to them. Then I met you. I tried not to care about you, to not feel anything for you, but it was harder than I thought. With everything that happened, I broke down, and gave in to my feelings for you. I was finally at peace with the world with you, enjoying being with you. When my beloved returned, I could not think of anything else. I forgot about everything when I saw him safely returned."

"So are you telling me that I was a mere diversion," growled Harry, disbelief evident on his features.

"NO," shouted Kerin. "I cared for you. I… I don't know exactly what I felt for you, but I did care. I could not love you though, maybe eventually I would have been able to, but it was still too soon. I was very attracted to you, and I erred in my judgment. I am sorry for hurting you, I didn't mean to."

"What are you doing here then," asked Harry warily. Having matured these past few months, he was not naïve enough to believe that she had come to pledge her undying love to him.

"Please do not kill Hamil'th," she pleaded, tears in her eyes. "Please."

"Why, he would kill me in a second if he were given the chance."

"If you truly loved me, please don't." Harry knew that this was a very underhanded move, which would force him to comply.

"Fine, your bethrothed's life is safe," the young mage growled, clearly angry. "But his life is forfeit if he tries to kill me. This is also the last time that you can ever ask anything of me again. Now leave me."

Once she left, Harry allowed the tears of frustration and heartbreak to finally flow from his eyes.

* * *

At noon, anyone who did not have other duties piled up next to the garden or on the bridges above to watch this event. A light blue dome was laid out by the spellweavers over the area of the training ground to protect observers from getting hurt

The two opponents were inside the dome facing each other. Hamil'th was wearing his complete set of golden armor along with a golden warhammer. Harry stood on the other side garbed in only a pair of black trousers, boots, and his sword.

"An Elven duel has been called, there will be no quarter given to the defeated." En'Marth sadly announced. "The fight has been agreed to by both parties; no charges will be levied against the victor."

"BEGIN," yelled the Elven leader. Harry and Hamil'th sprung into action. Harry decided that he would have to immediately overpower his opponent with magic before the other could launch a counterspell or physically attack.

So, he flung a blizzard in Hamil'th's face. Speeding ice shards bounced harmlessly off of the shield that the elf commander had cast, but it could not fully stop the lighting strike that was also thrown at him. His shield fell, throwing him backwards. Before Hamil'th could land, Harry flung the wind at his opponent. Focusing the wind into magical 'slits' in the air, the mage turned the wind into deadly blades, cutting through his opponent's armor.

Kerin's betrothed found himself on the ground bereft of his armor, with several deep cuts on his body. Red blood mixed with the brown of the earthen floor. Hamil'th saw Harry stand above him with a raised blade. He closed his eyes, awaiting the final blow. The sound of the blade descending was deafening before it stopped, but he was somehow still alive. Harry had buried the blade an inch from his face, not finishing him off. The crowd gasped, the fight was over in under five minutes.

"You have lost," said Harry. "Do you yield?"

"Yes," the elf conceded.

Harry pulled his buried weapon out of the earth and sheathed it, turning his back on the Elf. He was not aware that the elf had stood up and pulled a silver dagger from his belt until he felt the blade protruding from his lower back. The treachery on the part of Hamil'th sent Harry over the edge. All the pent up rage in the fire burst like a dam, filling Harry and taking command of his magic.

The elf commander smiled with glee as he plunged the dagger into the back of the unsuspecting mage. "Better than me, eh," he thought to himself. "Who's better now?"

Unfortunately for Hamil'th, Harry did not die from the attack. It just served to piss him off. A strong wind began to build in the arena, as lightning flowed across Harry's body, expelling the knife and healing the wound. The mage turned to face his enemy, his glowing red eyes promising a world of pain for his deceit.

"All elves are the same," he growled, raising his hand, levitating his adversary into the air. "You are all duplicitous."

A bolt of concentrated electrical energy launched from the palm of Harry's hand to the suspended fighter. Hamil'th began to convulse as the bolt of energy activated all his body's pain receptors, causing him to scream in agony.

"Isn't this fun," asked Harry. "Why don't we try _this_?" Harry slammed a psychic bolt into his opponent, shattering any mental defenses, and allowing him full access. Harry did not care about the other's memories, but implanted a few new very painful ones that would repeat over and over into the Elf's head. He forcefully induced his enemy to sleep, causing more screams due to the implanted nightmares.

"Wakey Wakey." A jet of water was sent at Hamil'th, waking him from his nightmares. Harry waved his hand again letting loose a pale yellow bolt of energy. Upon impact, the spell broke every single bone in the Elf's body, multiplying the pain that he was already in.

Harry calmly stepped over to the tortured commander of the Elven forces. "I think it's time to end this don't you?" Harry laughed manically. Slowly, he gathered the magical energies provided by nature into his reserves. He placed his hand, claw-like, on his enemy's heart.

"_Quanta… Uaina…'kshapa_," he cried, using his energies to forcibly separate Hamil'th's ethereal soul from his earthly body. Harry drew his hand back, pulling out a green mist, to the horror of the onlookers.

"NOOOOO," cried Kerin, running through the shield. "You said you wouldn't hurt him!"

"I said I wouldn't only if he did not backstab me," Harry roared back. "But he did, LITERALLY!"

"Please don't do this Harry," she softly said. "You know this isn't you. You don't truly want to."

His only response was to slam the mist back into the body, dropping it into the ground. He turned and walked off, encountering the barrier. Harry was not in a mood to be stopped, by _anything_. Angrily, he grabbed as much energy as he could and slammed a bolt of pure magic into the shield, shattering it. He walked off back to his rooms to pack, knowing that their welcome would be cut short due to this incident.

* * *

A week later, En'Marth stopped his daughter in the hallway of the royal apartments.

"How are you feeling, my child?"

"Sad," she replied. She thought of Hamil'th still lying in the hospital attempting to recover from his injuries. Kerin knew, though, that he would never fully recover from almost having his soul removed. Harry had also left shortly after the incident. En'Marth had held true to his words, he was not charged with what he had done to the Elven commander. To do otherwise would probably have been unwise since she doubted that any of the spellweavers would have been able to stop him. Also, many in the city felt less compassion for Hamil'th after he dishonorably tried to plunge a dagger into Harry's back.

"I am sorry to hear that," replied En'Marth. "I am sorry to bring you more bad news. But the Council has decided against an alliance with the mages, especially after the last incident."

"So everything that happened was for naught?" Kerin cried glumly.

En'Marth could not respond to that question. Instead, he pulled his daughter into a strong embrace, hoping that the free Elven people would be able to survive this latest threat.

* * *

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out. My wonderful and brilliant little sister beta-ed this chapter for me. I'm currently doing an internship so I don't know how long it will take to get chapter 20 out. Unfortunately this work will soon turn into an AU, but I hope people will still continue to be interested.

Please Read and Review, I'm getting jealous of those people w/ thousands of reviews.. haha. Yes, I know this is a shameless plug.

In an effort to get this out quick, I'm not going to respond to any reviews. Sorry guys.


	20. Time Matters Not

**Chapter 20: Time Matters Not**

After the events that occurred in the Elven city, Harry did not speak much except to acknowledge instruction given to him by either Merlin or Cathal. His spirit seemed crushed, green eyes dull and without life. Any exuberance that Harry had once possessed was now extinguished. He rode on slightly ahead of Merlin, wanting solitude. His master allowed this since Cathal had already departed and they were almost at the Norhaven gates.

The familiar obsidian statues marking the entryway into Norhaven stood up ahead. And upon entering, Harry would immediately be placed into the Phoenix Knights officer training program, a program which he knew that would likely mean his death. At this moment in time, however, Harry did not much care if he lived or died. He had lost a girl who he thought he loved, and who he thought loved him. Like all young people, he believed that losing your first 'love' meant that there was no longer meaning to life.

There was no fanfare, no crowd gathered, nothing but empty stone streets to welcome back the returning travelers. The spring festival had just ended. He had been fortunate enough to participate in the final day of the festival's celebration the previous evening when they had stopped overnight in a nearby town. Today was a day of rest for all the people of Azcyadan.

In front of Merlin's dwelling stood four armor clad city sentinels and one black cloaked wizard, who Harry assumed to be a battle mage.

"Apprentice Potter," the mage addressed, stepping up. "As per your return arrangements you are hereby ordered to report to the Phoenix training grounds, effective immediately! We will escort you, with or without your consent."

Harry looked back, and saw his master seething with anger. He reached his hand out, placing it on Merlin's shoulder. Emerald green eyes once again met sky blue ones. "Thank you for everything master. Don't worry, I will be fine, and I will make you proud."

Merlin and Harry shared a small smile, both knowing what a hollow promise that was.

* * *

Harry walked onto Guard's Way sans shackles, but yet he was still a prisoner. On the way there, he could hear the many whispers of others along the wind. Some wondered what he did wrong, some thought it was better that he was caught in whatever he did, while many others just did not care.

"_Funny_," Harry thought wryly. "_The gossipers of the past have remained unchanged for hundreds of years. Maybe humans haven't advanced as much as they thought they have._"

Harry once again set foot on the familiar grey cobblestone path leading to the main entrance. After entering the imposing double doors, however, the similarities ended. Instead of the wall melting away revealing the passageway into the training complex where he had learnt the art of physical combat from the Elven twins, a swirling blue-green portal appeared in front of them. The blinding white light emanating from the center of the vortex hid the destination that lay on the other side, if there was truly a destination instead of oblivion.

The guards stationed themselves in front of the portal, but did not enter. When Harry made no immediate move to throw himself into the unknown, the guard standing in the rear did it for him.

The last words he heard were, "Happy trip Potter, it may well be your last!" before he blacked out.

* * *

A cloaked figure moved swiftly and silently through the "training grounds" of the Phoenix Knights. The training area was nothing more than a large room full of granite basins filled with a muscle enhancing solution with many complicated runes etched into the sides of each. Within each basin slept a potential Phoenix Knight, blissfully unaware of their actual surroundings.

After being brought through the portal, all candidates were rendered unconscious and would not wake until after the full crystal bonding took place, when they would be transported to the barracks on the cliff face surrounding Norhaven. The runes served two purposes: the first was to weave a complicated illusion of being trained in one's own mind, and the second insured that the trainees would never wake and learn the secrets of how the most elite soldiers were trained.

The solution was linked to the mind manipulating magics, physically changing the Knights as they slumbered. Every injury would leave a corporeal scar, and all physical changes would follow them back into the waking world. This was done so as to avoid suspicion by convincing the Knights that the training was, indeed, real.

The figure stopped above the basin holding a young man with shoulder length raven hair and a jagged lightning bolt scar on his forehead. Lying there, he looked quite innocent and at peace. He did not look like the hardened warrior like the unknown person's employer had warned her to look out for. Taking out a vial from the folds of her cloak, she remembered the instructions that were given:

_A single candle was the only source of light in the office of the Second Mage, Darius Grece. The entire chamber was bathed in shadows, but that was how she liked it. Even in the darkness she still kept the hood of her cloak up. She was tuning out the ranting of her employer until the information pertinent to her mission came up. _

"_... will finally put that boy in his place," the Second Mage cackled in glee. "The great mages of the past circumvented the controls that the Dragon Council placed on the Phoenix Knight selection process by changing the crystals we used. You see, by using manufactured crystals imbued with our magic, we were able to grant many mages of Norhaven the honor of becoming Phoenix Knights, without the silly 'noble and honorable' constraints that the Dragons put forth. Unfortunately changing the crystals no longer allowed the Knights to access dragon magic, but they were still more powerful and retained the ability to fully command the great Gold and Silver dragons. The Dragons have been aware of our activities, and were not happy to say the least. They will rend and tear apart the minds of those who attempt to use a wild crystal to access their mind training." _

_Holding a glass tube containing a faintly glowing blue crystal, the Grece patriarch continued, "I want that boy who humiliated my son dead, and this is the perfect way to do it. Many who enter the training program of the Phoenix Knights do not even survive the training given by the modified crystals. There is no chance at all this Potter boy can survive a wild crystal being used. He will die, yet none will believe it to be more than his feeble mind being unable to handle the stress of the training. Do you understand?" _

And so she replaced the red crystal that had been sitting in the mechanism above the potential Knight's head with the glowing blue one.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes, surprised that he was not groggy after the portal caused him to become unconscious. He awoke in a grass clearing; the stars were shining unnaturally bright above him. The ground under him was strangely soft, almost like it didn't exist.

"Well, that's because it doesn't. Exist, of course. My, we finally have a bright one here." Harry sharply jerked his head to be faced with two slitted yellow eyes staring amusedly at him.

"Who are you," Harry asked, though he really wanted to ask 'what' instead of 'who'.

"Don't worry. I'm not offended if you ask what I am. It's simple, I'm a part of your imagination, Figment's the name." Figment was a strange looking creature that slightly resembled a dragon. It had light purple skin, with a yellow underbelly. It was on the short side, only coming up to Harry's abdomen. It had large eyes and orange horns. Harry wondered if he hit his head very badly when he came out of that strange portal.

"Ok, forgetting that you're part of my imagination, I thought I came through the portal to train?" Harry asked, confused.

"You will be training, and I'm your coach!" said Figment sporting a large grin.

At Harry's still dazed look, the purple dragon continued, "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but since there's nothing constraining me this time I'll try to explain. The form I take on is part of your imagination. I am part of you, but at the same time I'm not. Here in your mindscape I can interact with and train you."

"So what are you then?" Harry scratched his head, still not quite getting everything.

Figment just laughed. "Well, I'm what you would call the 'embodiment of magic', or at least of Dragon Magic. It's strange, though, I haven't gotten the opportunity to train a human in a very long time. No matter, we should start. I have three years to whip you into shape!"

"What," the raven haired boy exclaimed. "Three years? I thought I was only supposed to be training for three months?"

"The beauty of magic my young lad," the creature answered. "You will only physically remain in 'training' for three months, but in your mindscape we can speed up or slow down time as I so choose. The other good thing, since you already are sleeping, you don't need any actual rest, which means I can train you for three years straight"

Harry did not like the mischievous glint sparkling in Figment's eyes. "So what do I have to learn?"

"Hrm," said Figment, tapping one of his claws to his snout. "I'll teach you how to better control the powers you already have, learn fighting techniques using and not using magic, the use of Dragon Magic, oh and of course, I'll teach you how to handle a dragon companion."

Harry thought about it, learning different magics could really help in some tight situations. Considering most magical nullifying fields only target one or two branches of magic, he would still be able to defend himself in such situations.

"Ok, let's get started."

"Righty-O," smiled Figment. "Not like you had a choice to begin with." And he snapped his claws together.

--- BLINK ---

The landscape around them shifted. Harry was now standing alone in an arena of some type. Recalling his captivity by the Dwarfs, he shuddered, trying to bury the fear that was beginning to surface.

A loudspeaker came on. It was Figment. "Time to test your skills. You can use any means necessary to defeat your opponents."

Suddenly fifteen werewolves appeared around him, snarling and growling at him. He conjured a sword just as he heard Figment say, "BEGIN!"

**14 Hours Later: **

"Come back down so I can fry you," yelled Harry, chasing Figment while throwing bolts of lightning, which continually missed the very agile flying purple dragon.

"Hey," exclaimed Figment, doing a corkscrew to avoid being electrocuted. "It was a test! How am I supposed to see your full potential if I don't push you a little bit?"

"A little bit?" muttered Harry. He shot another two streaks of jagged energy at the dragon showing his happiness with the 'little bit' of testing.

Figment had made him fight multiple opponents with everything he had. Though, what the devious dragon forgot to mention was that he would randomly deactivate one of Harry's abilities or un-conjure his swords. In these instances, he could only run away using what abilities he had left, until Figment decided to allow them again. Harry knew that he needed more training and versatility when fighting, but he was _not_ going to admit that to Figment just yet.

---BLINK---

"… water and energy skills are not bad, but you need to work on what you can do with the wind." Lectured figment.

Harry was sitting cross-legged in a grass clearing listening to the talking dragon. They were trying to work on his control over the last of his storm-wizard abilities before trying to improve on the other two. So here he was being told to 'feel the wind', or some such nonsense.

"It isn't nonsense," shouted Figment, smacking Harry over the head with a claw. "So, stop rolling your eyes at me. You have the ability to not only harness the wind, but to become the wind. But you have to think why being the wind is useful as it really has no shape or form, like water or lightning. That's why probably the most powerful element is often overlooked."

"Now close your eyes and feel the wind on your face…" Figment continued as Harry sighed.

---BLINK---

An orc soldier lunged at the human with its huge battleaxe, but the blade sliced through nothing but air. A strong gust of wind slammed into the orc, sending it flying, before it 'poofed' into non-existence.

"Good," complimented Figment. "It looks like you've finally got the hang of using some wind powers in battle.

"Thanks," said Harry, tiredly. He was much quicker changing his form into that of the wind, and calling upon its powers, but it still left him incredibly fatigued. His guide for the past few months said that with time and practice, his magical core would grow to be able to channel the large amount of power required for his wind capabilities.

"After seeing what you can do, I've come up with a fighting style that I think you'll like," said Figment, flying lazily around Harry.

"Wait, why do I need another style anyways," asked the young knight in training. "I'm already a blademaster."

"What if your sword gets taken away," his guide asked, raising one eye ridge.

"I can use Cam'dagora then."

"Fine," huffed Figment. "Fight him using that Elven style." And with that a dragon larger than a Hungarian Horntail popped into existence.

Harry gulped, as he lowered himself into an Elven fighting stance, thinking, "_This will not go well at all_."

---BLINK---

After being severely and humiliatingly beaten after the first five seconds of battle, Harry humbled himself and begged Figment to teach him the fighting form. The dragon finally acquiesced hours later when he decided Harry had apologized enough for doubting his 'dragon superiority', as he called it.

Harry was currently concentrating on molding a thin layer of dragon magic over his forearm, so that it would be able to withstand any strike. This was part of what Figment aptly named the 'dragon' style of fighting. The style was supposed to be similar to how a dragon actually fought. There were three phases, the earth defense phase, the grounded burst, and the winged maelstrom.

The earth defense consisted of ground defense where he would use dragon magic to form a layer of armor over his skin, enabling his body to withstand any impact. The grounded burst involved sharpening the layer covering his skin, especially over his hands and arms, and using them in slash type attacks. His wind powers would also be used in conjunction to quickly reappear behind enemies in a 'burst' type fashion, but would instead be powered by drawing upon dragon magic. The final and hardest phase was the winged maelstrom, where Harry would have to use his wind powers to actually fly above enemies and attack by flying and slashing, or tossing balls of dragon fire at opponents below.

Currently he was stuck having a lot of trouble just trying to control the dragon magic. Even though it was just a different 'channel' that he had to set his internal magic 'dial' to, he found that the magic of the dragons to be incredibly temperamental compared to human magic or the calm Elven magic.

He was determined to succeed in practice. He had to; otherwise it was likely Figment would find some other more painful method to drill in the ability.

"Have you figured it out yet," asked Figment, appearing in front of Harry.

"Not yet, I'm almost there."

"Well, I can help," said Figment gleefully, rubbing his forepaws together. "Why don't we try tossing some boulders at you to make sure it's working?"

Harry could not even muster up the energy to groan.

---BLINK---

"I don't understand," said Harry, frustrated with his slow progress with the dragon magic. "The principles of magic are the same for regular magic, so why can't I just use that in these fighting styles?"

"You can," agreed Figment. "But, the potency of the spell will be much less than if you used dragon magic. Think of it this way, you spend the same amount of effort extracting either dragon or human magic from your surroundings, but the dragon magic will always be stronger than the human magic, even if it is a little bit more temperamental."

"A little bit?" Harry asked, incredulously.

"Ok ok," acquiesced Figment. "The magic's a lot more temperamental. But it's efficiency is still better than that of human magic. And…"

"And what," Harry wondered, suspicious.

"And dragon magic can stand up to boulders much better than human magic can…"

---BLINK---

Harry flew through the air, as he slashed at another opponent that Figment had conjured. He had finally become proficient in the arts of combat, though at times like this, he didn't feel that proficient. Figment seemed to think that the better Harry got, the harder the difficulty his opponents had to be. Of course, the 'purple bastard', as Harry frequently called him, claimed that his grasp of mathematics was poor, and he could only count in exponential increases.

So, with Harry's positive progress, he now had to fight entire armies, _by himself_. He was surprised, however, at how good he had been doing while fighting whole forces by himself. But then again none of these forces had any magical ability, yet.

Glowing green fireballs rained down from the sky, setting the supply trains of the army ablaze. He quickly directed lightning to rain down on the archers and other long range units. Harry stayed airborne until catapult powered rocks began to pound at his shields.

Upon landing, Harry lengthened the magic surrounding his arms to form deadly sharp blades of glowing gold, which he used to separate the torsos of two unfortunate soldiers from their legs. He became a whirlwind of destruction, wreaking havoc in an area, leaving behind only death, before disappearing and reappearing randomly in another group of unsuspecting soldiers.

He neatly ducked a sword slash meant for his head, before grabbing the offending arm holding the blade and flipping the surprised Minotaur over. Before it landed, however, he struck the chest, releasing a charge of energy overloading the creature's dormant magical core, killing it before it landed.

Harry continued to disable or destroy his opponents until none were left standing. Tired and sweaty he called out, "I'm done." And suddenly the bodies on the ground disappeared, the bloodstained grass reverted to its original green, and the smell of decaying bodies became fresh and clear.

"Not bad," said Figment, lazily flying down. "Too slow though."

Harry could only glare at the innocent looking dragon.

"Now, what we need to work on is incorporating all the skills at your command, combining everything to maximize your potential. Ah, so much to each, so little time to throw orcs at you."

---BLINK---

"I've seen your fighting style Harry, you have good natural instinct," said Figment in his evaluation. "So I figure now's a good time to teach you how to use divination in combat."

Harry laughed, "What do you want me to do, throw tea leaves at the orcs and tell them what a short future they'll have?"

Figment snorted and shot a ball of fire at Harry, who simply conjured a shield of water to protect himself, having dealt with Figment's 'lecture modes' many times before.

"Pay attention," chided the purple dragon. "This is important. You're natural instinct, or sixth sense, which allows you to do so well in fighting, is basically your untrained divination."

"Wait, how does divination have to do with my instincts, I'm not a seer," exclaimed Harry, thinking that this conversation was pointless.

"Of course you're not a seer," snorted Figment. "Seers are somewhat intelligent."

"Hey," shouted Harry, "I'm - "

"Anyways," continued Figment, ignoring the young mage's outburst. "Divination is the ability to predict future events, most of the time in the forms of prophecies or visions. Even though it is usually only the ability of predicting the distant future, or 'farsight' if you will that is considered useful, most magical beings have the ability to see somewhat into the future. You are more attuned to seeing only a few moments before the future, but it is enough to warn you of what is to come. What we will be doing is to hone that, and increase it so that the prediction's actually useful."

Figment conjured a fierce looking, loinskin wearing, forest green orc wielding a wicked looking dagger. Harry stood up, gathering magic to him, and moving forwards to attack the orc.

"Relax," chimed in Figment, before Harry dismembered his creation. "This one won't attack you. Instead I want you to focus on your inner eye, and look at the orc warrior."

Harry focused hard, yet nothing happened. "I don't see anything different."

"Focus harder," yelled Figment. "Or I'll find a way to make you focus." His yellow eyes started gleaming madly at the thought of a 'focus'.

"Uh no," said Harry quickly, backing away. "I'll get it by myself this time."

He once again focused on his inner eye, and to his amazement saw not only the orc, but many ghostly outlines of where the orc could possibly go. As the orc started to move, the outlines shifted as one option became more solid. And as the option became more solid, the ghostly outlines shifted to form different options that branched out from the orc's current position. He realized that he was actually predicting the orc's movements.

"Wow," breathed Harry. "That'll come in handy."

"Yep," agreed Figment. "But, you're still seeing things too slowly. You have to not only see the movement, but be able to react to it. I think some practical application will help." Five mean looking orc warriors carrying a myriad of weapons appeared next to the sadistic purple dragon.

"What is it with you and _orcs_!" exclaimed Harry, exasperated, as he crouched into a battle stance.

---BLINK---

"Ouch," moaned Harry, as he was being revived from a particularly nasty sleeping curse, as it could bypass most shields. "I could predict that the elven spellweaver would use a spell, but how was I supposed to know it would be a spell that would bypass my shields."

After his success with learning how to predict the movement of opponents and defeating non-magic wielding enemies, Figment had started including magic users in their simulations. Suffice it to say, his 'farsight' predictions only helped him dodge the magic thrown, but not identify how he was supposed to fight it.

"Well, I did that to teach you a lesson," smiled Figment. "I didn't want you to get too arrogant in your abilities just yet."

"Ok, so what's the lecture this time," asked Harry, getting straight to the point.

"Well," huffed Figment. "You know about mage sight correct?"

"What?" asked Harry confused.

"The ability to see magic," answered the dragon.

"Oh," said the knight-in-training, feeling foolish. "Yeah, I can see magic around me if that's what you meant."

"Then why didn't you use that with your divinations when fighting the wizard?"

"I forgot. Besides, I don't even know what everything means. I just see a lot of colors, and sometimes some weird rune type characters."

"I can't help you with the runes, you'll have to figure out what they mean on your own sometime after you train here," said Figment. "But turn on your mage sight and release a bolt of lighting. Tell me what you see"

He shot off a bolt of lighting. "I see blue with swirling white, along with gold and black specks."

"The blue denotes elemental magic, the white the absence of emotions to cast. Gold tells the power of the spell, while black specks indicate that it is a destructive force," lectured Figment, flying lazy circles in the air. "As you keep training, you will be able to see greater details. With some spells you will be able to see runes, if they were used in its casting."

"Ok, now to…" started Figment.

"Learn by using practical application," intoned Harry, resigned.

"Well, you do eventually learn." Figment grinned and filled the entire area with orcs.

---BLINK---

"Ok, you've done pretty well," Figment said. "In fact you've exceeded my expectations."

Harry grinned, the lack of criticism made him feel very accomplished.

"So, we'll get on to the fun part, how to handle a dragon."

Harry groaned before asking, "Let me guess: I'm going to have to fight this dragon with everything that I've learned in order to talk to it or something right?"

"No, you just have to talk to it," said Figment, smirking.

"There's no way it's that easy. You're trying to trick me!" Harry yelled, pointing his finger at the purple dragon.

"Seriously Harry, there's no danger," replied Figment. The dragon put a claw up to its chin, "although, if the dragon finds you annoying he might eat you."

"I knew it!" exclaimed Harry. "So how do you handle a dragon?"

"The best way to learn is by first hand experience," answered the embodiment of dragon magic as he hit his paw into Harry's forehead. Black tendrils of smoke began to cover the young Phoenix Knight.

"Wha…" Harry said, before being completely enveloped in the dark smoke.

After he disappeared, Figment smiled saying, "Guess I should have mentioned to him that this lesson is also his trials of being worthy of a Knight. Nah!"

* * *

As Harry was being consumed by the inky strands of smoke, the crystal above his head was ground, liquefied and injected into various points on his body. His body spasmed a few times before returning to its previous peaceful slumber. The outer peacefulness, however, was a striking contrast to the happenings within his mind.

* * *

Harry stood upon nothingness. All around him was pure darkness, except for the spot that he was standing on. He wondered what horrible monsters that he would have to face here. Dropping into the first Earth Defense stance, the young mage looked around for his potential enemies.

"HARRY," someone yelled. He quickly whipped around to the voice, and what he saw had him drop his jaw in disbelief. There standing before him was a man with shaggy black hair wearing a carefree smile, a woman with flaming red hair, and a man who somewhat resembled him.

"Sirius?" he asked assuming their identities. "Mom? Dad? What's going on here?"

"We're here to see you, of course!", Sirius exclaimed. "And you're coming with us."

"Where are we going…," Harry asked, before noticing the stone veil that had appeared out of nowhere.

"We're going into the veil," said James. "We have to fulfill the prophecy after all."

"Yes dear," Lily said, automatically responding to Harry's gobsmacked expression. "We know you're the chosen one."

"Come Harry," said Dumbledore, appearing behind Harry. "We haven't got much time. You must fulfill the prophecy."

As Harry approached the veil, he sensed something inherently wrong about. He was not sure what it was, but the feeling he got from it made his insides twist. The young mage quickly turned around and asked, "What does this Veil do, it doesn't feel right."

"Just do as you're told," Dumbledore snarled, pulling out his wand. He sent a banishment charm at Harry, who tried to counter with his storm wizard powers, but somehow they were not working normally in this strange place. His instincts kicked in as he was thrown backwards. Harry quickly drew in as much dragon magic as he could, and used it to power his storm wizard abilities, thus throwing himself the other direction and over Dumbledore. Forming a translucent green layer of dragon magic over his forearm, he slashed upwards as Dumbledore was turning around, separating Dumbledore's wand and hand from the rest of his body. He staggered back with a look of surprise on his face, bleeding profusely, before disappearing into nothingness.

"What did you just do?" James roared. "You have just permanently incapacitated the greatest light wizard who ever lived, and our only chance of stopping Voldemort's followers after he's destroyed."

"Why did you do that Harry," Lily asked, tears running down her cheeks.

Still in a defensive stance, Harry answered, "The Veil felt wrong. I knew there was something wrong with it, and it was confirmed when Dumbledore tried to force me in."

"Harry, you have to go into the veil," yelled Sirius, drawing his wand. "It's very important that you do."

"No," answered Harry as he gathered more power in preparation for battle.

"Like his father, his arrogance knows no bounds," sneered the Hogwart's potion master, who appeared behind Sirius. "I knew that Dumbledore shouldn't have sent you three to get him to fulfill the prophecy."

"No," James said. "You're wrong. Harry is a hero, he will fulfill the prophecy. As a Potter, the propensity to be righteous is in him."

"Wait," yelled Harry. "In what prophecy does it say that I have to go through the veil?"

Lily sighed and said, "Dumbledore told us the prophecy regarding you '_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as equal, but he will have power over the Dark Lord that he knows not ... And either must die by the hand of another for neither can survive while the other lives._'"

"Don't you see Harry?" James asked. "In order to defeat Voldemort's immortality, you have to die. Albus said it was for the greater good. I know you have the strength in you to do this son. I know that you're a hero."

"But that prophecy is wrong, I don't have to die for Voldemort to be destroyed. In fact it is my destiny to kill him," Harry screamed.

"Harry," Sirius said, putting down his wand. "We know this is difficult, but you have to do this. You have to make this sacrifice."

"No," the young mage said, determined not to go into the Veil now.

"Harry," his Father said quietly. "You're mother and I died to protect you, doesn't that mean anything."

"I died while trying to save you," Sirius added. "Won't you die so that others can live?"

"You must choose between what is easy and what is right," said Dumbledore appearing again. "Your destiny lies with choosing what is right."

"I don't care," screamed Harry. "I can beat Voldemort on my own terms. I have the power to send him to Hell where he belongs. I don't care about being a hero, or about destiny. From now on, I make my own path!"

A loud booming voice rang out around him saying, "Then it is done. You have decided."

Harry was once again consumed by that inky blackness, leaving nothing behind.

---BLINK---

He appeared in front of many bobbing balls of lights of different shapes and colors. A panel of six of the largest points of light were arrayed in front of him: two gold, two silver, one bronze, and the largest a metallic blue color. The points of light resolved themselves into six majestic dragons, while the other lights slowly faded away.

"_You have done well,_" one gold dragon hissed, in a dialect similar to parseltongue.

"_Yess…"_, the bronze one said. "_You have passed the trials and now may bond with one of our race, but who will bond with this powerful youngling?"_

The six were silent, each wondering who would take the young mage standing in front of them when suddenly the blue one spoke: "_I will take him."_

This simple statement caused disbelief to reign throughout.

"_This cannot be…"_

_"You cannot be serious…"_

_"He is a human; no human can withstand bonding with you…"_

"_SILENCE!_" the largest called out. "_I have made my decision. Are you willing to bind with me young mage?_"

Harry figured that there shouldn't be any harm since the largest was certain that it would work out. So he answered: "Yes."

"_Then let it be done_," the blue dragon roared, before launching a giant ball of fire that engulfed Harry.

* * *

In the real world, runes around Harry's position began to glow, as a shrill alarm was sounded. Untamed magical energy began to swirl around Harry, lashing out at anything nearby. His eyelids began to flutter, signaling wakefulness.

The technicians on duty, upon realizing that he was about to wake, quickly activated the runes that would open the portal to transport him out of the room and into the main atrium. There he would return to consciousness, none the wiser to the true nature of the officer's testing.

They, however, never noticed the discharge of magical energy, nor the glittering metallic blue tattoo of a dragon located on Harry's left bicep.

* * *

Harry groggily awoke, with a massive headache no less. The sun was shining down upon him in the open air atrium. He shook his head a couple times to get the "cobwebs" out.

He wondered how long he had been training for, and if it was even real. He kept questioning himself until he heard a voice in his head hiss "_It was real. My name is Aroarn. From now on, my kin and I will always be by your side._"

Harry smiled at that, and shakily stood up. The young mage wondered how to get out, when from behind him two large iron doors swung open, signaling that he should enter.

* * *

Harry grimaced to himself as he tugged at the collar of his dress uniform for the umpteenth time. He was in a large banquet hall for the night's festivities. After he woke up, he was cleaned, and then went through a whirlwind of briefing, which detailed his orders, effective immediately.

He was to take command of a dragon rider unit that was the second line of defense on the eastern border of Azcyadan. Harry surmised that it was the second mage's way to quickly rid himself of the young mage, while not being overt about it.

But he couldn't even get a good night's sleep before leaving Norhaven. Instead, there was a huge celebration being held for some council member's child, in recognition of his or her marriage.

So, Harry was here as part of the guard detail to insure that nothing untoward happened.

"Well, at least it can't get any worse," said Harry to himself.

Suddenly trumpets started blaring, causing everyone to look up to the top of the Hall's staircase. There stood two familiar figures, which made Harry's breath hitch.

The second mage climbed up the stairs saying, "Thank you for coming today. It is my great pleasure to announce the joining of two well respected families, as well as welcome a new member into my family. Please join me in a toast to congratulate my son, Korvin Grece, and his lovely wife, Allison Grece."

Two words summed up perfectly what Harry was feeling, "Aw... shit!"

* * *

It was late after the celebration ended. A single candle burned in the private study of the First Magus. He had declined to join in the festivities tonight, as he always declines anything Darius Grece had his claws in. He took another sip of the dark red ruby wine from his crystal goblet, while he looked through troop movements made by the humans.

The war had not been going well since young Slytherin had discovered the implanted magical eyes in the leader of the Soldiers of Order. The First Magus still suspected that the Second had something to do with that. Without conclusive proof, however, there was nothing he could do about it.

He heard the sound of footsteps in his chamber, and gathered his magic to repel any attack, or tried to at any rate. Instead, he found that the magic would not respond to his call.

"Feeling a little puny without your magic?" A cloaked figure said, stepping out of the shadows.

"Who are you?" the First Magus asked, as he let a hidden dagger in the sleeve of his robe drop into his hand. Before he could throw the weapon, he was slammed into the unyielding stone wall by a wave of magic, consequently disarming him by loosening his hold on the blade.

"It does not matter who I am, all that matters is that you die." With that a ceremonial dagger of Elven origins found itself lodged in between the eyes of the First Magus.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for not writing for so long. I've been pretty busy for the past year. The end of this chapter was kind of rushed since I just left out a lot of imagery and tried to get the plotline out (It ended up being around 17 pages). I may try to do the same thing in the future so that the next four chapters would be condensed into one or two. I'm not sure though, I don't want to sacrifice good writing for faster updates though. Let me know what you guys think. **

**And as always thanks for the reviews, they made me happy, and also kept me from just abandoning the story. **


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